


Playing Dead

by wickedfox



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-01
Updated: 2004-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedfox/pseuds/wickedfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a certain Watcher turned vampire enlists the aid of an old friend, they both get more than they bargained for. A dark, quirky and violent tale of transformation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a one shot and grew with my twisted sick muse.  
> My apologies for the ending. I've received mixed reviews.

**The Visitor:**

He lay sleeping in the dark.

Body at rest yet never truly at rest with his heart pumping, lungs breathing, nerves energized with thoughts triggered by dreams and nightmares alike. No, he was never truly at rest. Not as I was or would be if I could rid myself of the demon implanted where my soul used to hibernate.

He smells of antiseptics, barely the scent of the man that had haunted me as I lived and now summons me in death.

"Rupert?" He calls out softly, his voice a whisper of what I remember.

"Only the meaty parts." I amuse myself. "I'm here, Ethan."

He tries to sit up but his half naked body fails him and he slaps back down to the unforgiving tile. "You came for me?" he asks in a broken voice straining to hide emotion.

"Yes."

"You came to free me?"

"Yes."

He shifts painfully sideways to try and see me through the dark. It's futile. I see his eyes are milky, deadened from the absence of light here. Just another thing the soldiers took from him. That I took from him.

"I've waited for you," he wheezes. He hasn't much time.

"You've no need to wait any longer." I move closer. He grins, face creased with age but not so far from what I remember.

"I knew you'd come."

"I need you," I admit without inflection, without emotion and he jolts with surprise at my proximity. I bend down to try to calm him with a hand only to have him swipe it away.

"Took twenty-five years for you to figure that out, you bloody bastard."

"Only one night, actually; eighteen minutes, thirteen seconds and my long abandoned soul, to be exact."

His eyes close, burdened by my grim reality. Then he gloats, "Always knew she'd be the death of you, mate."

"My disillusioned sense of duty to a dead establishment sealed my fate, not the Slayer."

"The Slayer. So formal, Rupert. What's happened, then?"

"What's happened, indeed." I sigh a useless breath and chuckle at the ironic justice of it all. "My former student turned foe now aims her stakes in hunt for her former teacher turned devil. It is the way of her world. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Or so I've been taught and told." I gesture the sign of the cross. With it comes a rattling through my bones and a hollow ache in the vacant space that once housed my soul.

"Better hope you didn't teach her everything, old man." He grins. How very cunning of him.

"That's why I need you, Ethan. A skillful sorcerer. My dark mystic." I kneel as I would to worship a deity. "But my intentions must be clear on this so I'll give you a choice. One not presented to me but I feel nonetheless obligated to offer in balance of some metaphoric scale we weigh between you and I."

"Choice?" He shudders as I stroke my fingertips along his bare shoulder.

"A slow death by fabricated chemicals and torturous tests, trapped within these sterile walls of a government military facility."

"Or?"

"A deathly rebirth granted with the admission of a single submission."

"You'd turn me, then?"

"If you'll accept me and the fate I represent."

He chuckles helplessly. "I've accepted less with such reverence."

"Then you've made your choice?" I can feel the echo of his pounding heart in the faint pulse under my fingers. It's enthralling. He hasn't any idea his authority over me now but he'll realize it soon enough.

"A choice to die by their hands or by yours? I would gladly throw myself upon your sacrificial alter, Ripper."

It brings a smile to my lips. "You always were the willing servant, Ethan."

"Willing, yes. Servant, no. Ever the inspiration, my dear boy. Inspiration."

"And you will be again… to me, to them, to all of those unfortunates who would seek to spare themselves a dusty fate at the hands of a self righteous Slayer. That's what you will give to us."

"Perhaps it's my failing mind but I don't quite follow, Ripper?"

"Survival of the fittest, Ethan. Or at the very least, survival of the meekest."

"Meek?"

"Who could be more humbled than a corrupted Watcher facing his doom at the pointed end of a Slayers mercy?" He moans as I carefully cradle him in my arms so I console him with a whisper. "You will be my salvation from her pitiless damnation."

"I suppose today is as good a day to die as any." His half blind eyes pin me through the darkness and I can see the reflection of my yellow stare in his gaze. "Tell me what day it is."

I offer a fang filled smile. "It's Halloween."

"I should have known."

He smiles sadly as his head falls back, silently giving me permission. My fangs sink and I drink as he slowly crosses from his world to mine. My freshly wounded wrist presses to his lips, pouring my blood borne poison down his throat as I continue to feed. I stop only when death steals his breath and stills his heart. He makes a handsome corpse. Minutes pass and I still hold him, cradling him as I would a child in my arms. When his eyes reopen, I welcome him to the world with a gentle whisper, "Happy birthday, Ethan."

 **The Extraction:**

He called it a rebirth but it was more a reinvention. I am myself but with a strangers body. Thoughts remain; memories that trigger emotions that still storm through my silent veins even though true life is absent. I am but figments of the faulted man I was before. More concrete now than clay and I decide it's an improvement. I'm confused yet stronger, hyperaware of what life surrounds me that I lack.

I open my eyes to darkness and see everything. There is a spider in the far corner of the cell, the only freedom I'd witnessed for over four years. There is a breeze coming from the vent above, sending stale dust to dance on shadowed air. And there is Ripper, holding me in his arms with a tenderness I haven't experienced since our youth.

"Happy Birthday, Ethan."

He smiles down at me with an ageless face. I reach out to touch him then touch my own.

"It'll be some time still," he explains softly. "Your body will rebuild as you feed."

"I feel…" there are no appropriate words. "Odd."

"I did as well. The adjustment… the evolution takes some getting use to."

My senses are frenzied, as if I were a computer on data overload. I smell sounds, hear scents and taste visions. I am flesh contained chaos. It's all so surreal, I can't possibly comprehend what's happened to me and it's probably best to remain that way.

"Well now that you've damned me, Ripper, shouldn't we be planning our escape?" I ask, speaking with the strong voice I'd practically forgotten.

"No need. They'll be coming for us."

"They?"

Booming echoes shake the walls. I hear gunfire and screams as the floor quakes beneath us. Then I smell blood, my first scent of the intriguing elixir, and I crave it above all else. With an explosion, a wall reduces to rubble and I see the crinkled brows and twisted horns of a demon horde standing at attention just beyond its dust. Ripper releases me to approach the visitors.

"You've done well, Jacobs," he says with a kindly nod, as if speaking to one of those children he used to sit when bound to the service of the Slayer.

"Thank you, Sir. The sublevels have been neutralized per your orders, sealed shut and the sewer accesses barricaded. Roberts and Wiles are working the pipes as we speak," the vampire soldier informs him confidently.

"And the perimeter?" Ripper asks as he offers me a hand. I accept and with a powerful tug, I am upright and testing the stability of my new body for the first time. In a word, it's miraculous.

The sound of gunfire and screams down the darkened corridors washes all confidence from the young vampire's face. "I'm afraid we've lost half our men, Sir. All that remains are the two on the pipelines and us."

Rupert takes a quick inventory of the faces present and turns grim. "Thank you, Jacobs. Leave us for a moment."

"You promised us our comrades, vampire," one horned demon growls in objection. "That was the deal." He pushes through the others to be heard.

"This wing is vacant, Sir. Mr. Rayne seems to be the only captive here," Jacobs informs him and the protester grunts his disapproval of the news.

Rupert offers a mild smile. "My apologies for our unanticipated misfortune, but we'll be holding to the plan as originally formulated."

"Fuck you, blood rat! We will…"

It happens in an instant, the beasts head twists viciously in a blur of motion. The sound of fracturing bone and torn tendons answers the demons unmet demands and it falls dead to the cell floor. Rupert brushes his hands along his jeans, as if offended for being forced to such dealings.

"Any other objections?" He asks, calmly acknowledging the remaining soldiers. All stand silent at attention with Jacobs particularly pleased at his commanders brutal disciplining.

"Very well. Jacobs, spare my friend and I a moment alone, please." Rupert requests again and with a nod, Jacob commands the soldiers to leave. The team steps beyond the fractured wall and waits as Rupert returns his attentions to me. "Ethan, I hate to impose so soon but we only had numbers enough to compromise the installation."

"Numbers falling even as we speak." I smile. "A suicide mission for me? I'm touched, Rupert." How quickly I take to teasing him and with a roll of his eyes, I see he regrets his decision to turn me. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of progress."

I'm as eager to test my skills as he is to see them. It's been far too long and though I feel weakened still, I have an undeniable confidence. I stare down at a solitary pebble glistening near my bare toe, focusing my mind as I have done thousands of times before. But it is different now. There's a weighty silence within me that I've never experienced before, all interferences vanished with my breath, all distractions gone with my life. I have a newfound clarity that allows me to concentrate tenfold and with a twitch of energies, I feel the old magicks reawaken.

"I suggest you have your men stay close. This won't be… pleasant."

Rupert directs his militia to return, keeping careful watch for the enemy.

I carry out my long premeditated designs for revenge with a single phrase whispered gently through smiling lips. The entirety of the installation is cast into hell. Flames erupt down passageways in a sort of creeping creature that takes to burning all who dare stand in its way. Mortar and brick collapse in to seal the fate of the human inhabitants inside. Water veins burst, drowning any possible survivors of the previous threat. Desperate cries gurgle and pale then all fall silent. Chaos is realized and I am satisfied, safely contained within the energies shield sheltering my new old friends.

"That'll do, Ethan." Rupert grins crookedly. He's pleased, as well he should be.

That's when I feel it, the absence of remorse. I know I should feel some sense of guilt that I snuffed out so many lives with mere words, but my conscience pays it no mind. What I do feel in abundance is justice for what I suffered at their hands. Though their deaths are foremost on my mind, mourning them is not. What a heavenly freedom I've been gifted with.

I dust off my hands and smile. "Come then, Ripper, introduce me to the night."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Slayer:**

"Miss Summers…?"

I glance up from my swelling stack of papers to see Rebecca peeking around the office door.

"A private email has come for you. SDIT has scanned it and deemed it clean should you wish to view it in the privacy of your office."

"Thank you. I'll do that." I say politely, hiding my hatred that nothing is truly private here. The Council and its various Supernatural Defenses departments oversee everything. Ever since that demonic terrorist attack via the internet, there is no privacy, no web surfing or personal email or phone calls. I live in a military ruled state, serving as one of their many tools of suppression.

My illusion of privacy is restored with the closing office door and I punch the space bar of my laptop to see the flashing icon for mail awaiting me. With a click of the left mouse button, my fears are realized. Only two words appear on the white background, that and two distressing initials...

"Rayne's escaped.

RF"

I swallow, hoping to coax moisture back into my mouth. It's useless. I shake my head and turn to the framed photo sitting on my desk. I'm smiling silly there, Willow and Xander hugging me from either side as Dawn hovers above, her arms wrapping around to hold us all. But it's the lonely figure standing apart from us that I'm drawn to. My finger traces his kindly face and again I find myself biting back tears I thought were satisfied months ago.

"If its war you want..." I scold the gentle image, "...then you'll get one!"

 **The Sleep:**

I spent four years of my life sleeping. What's one more day in the overall scheme of eternity? We drove so many miles. Three large vans worth, packed tight with the surviving undead militia who'd freed me so gallantly. Rupert sat in the front seat, reviewing the day's events and the coming day's plans. You can take the man out of the Council but you can't take the Council out of the man. Having exhausted what little energies I'd won with my resurrection, I found it hard to remain awake. I drifted in and out of consciousness, serenaded by the soothing sound of Rupert's soft-spoken voice directing his men over radios and discussions within the van. The others remained quiet, listening to their leader. Can't say I blame them. That voice is like good wine, rich, distinct and intoxicating.

I woke sporadically along our journey, glimpsing the stars as they progressed slowly across the moon roof of the van. It was the only impression of passing time I could relate to, a visual representation to remind me. For I had no seconds ticking away within me. My heart no longer thumped in a timely rhythm like some biological clock winding down to its inevitable termination. Time was an alien product of a society I was no longer constrained to.

But there was the hunger. It struck at dawn when we were trapped inside the van, windows inelegantly covered over with duct tape and black tarps. The only view to the outside was a slit from which the driver peeked. We were stranded in the middle of nowhere when my body went ridged, muscles stiff and unmoving, bones hardening to stone. I was weak, sick, as if dying all over again. Realizing these symptoms, we pulled over to the side of the road. Four young vampires and the driver, who was some sort of humanoid demon, helped heave me from the front to the back of the van. Rupert joined me, pulling closed a privacy curtain to separate us from the others. He cradled me in his arms, ripped back a bandage from his forearm, and offered his gashed wrist to me.

"It's not much but it'll be enough," he warned. "It should keep you until sundown. Drink."

And I did, drinking as if a man dehydrated in the arid desert, suckling while we drove on in wait for the night to return. Rupert encouraged me take all I could and I did, stopping only when the sickness sent me into a deep slumber.

He was right; it had been enough to prepare me for the present expedition trekking through sewers, winding tunnels that stink of feces and refuse. I must admit my expectations are not being met with our current predicament. Rupert's promised me a new world and given me mountains of filth. I wonder if I can I return this gift? However, the band of my brother vampires seems in good spirits and I finally witness them relaxing, falling back into the characters they are when not burdened with duty. The living demon among them leads the way deeper into the shadows, excavating any necessary passageways blockaded by ruptured earth and loose cement threatening to cave in. I can see why Rupert chose him, strong, quick and single minded on the mission. Rupert offers words of encouragement as he works. The others help but at a leisurely pace. They busy themselves with fooling around, chuckling over the sudden passing of the disagreeable beast back in my cell. Playful reenactments entertain me along our rough passage. Rupert allows them their fun but he remains steadfast, keeping an attentive eye on the path ahead. I, however, don't feel uneasy and wonder why he acts so troubled. Has so much changed since I was sent away?

The digger hoists a large chunk of cement and rebar up above his head, tossing it aside as if it were cardboard. The gang rally's around him in appreciation, rewarding him with pats on the back and good-natured punches to the shoulder. Rupert seems pleased as well, gesturing for them to hurry onward.

"Come now, they'll be time enough for celebration when we've reached home," he urges.

"Home?" I ask.

"Welcome home, Mr. Rayne." One soldier greets me with a salute and slams his fist hard against a folded interstate sign protruding from the fractured cement above. I eye the scratched paint, reading.

' Los Angeles .'

Bugger. I hate California .

 **The Institution:**

"I don't want them involved." I don't know how I could be more clear, standing confrontationally across from him, leaning forward with fists braced firmly on his desk. I'm sure I look all resolute and unmoving but I feel my gut churning with what he requests. And though I tried to deny and ignore it, I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time.

He tries to act the part of the concerned supervisor, creased brow, folded arms and contemplative face. But he's nothing more than a clone of Travers, the cookie cutter head of the Council who sits there in his big chair, spouting off his big words, sporting his big authority. I know better. We are always the ones who hurt, who bleed, who die and they are only score keepers. He needs to know it, whether or not he cares.

"They were involved the moment you befriended them in Sunnydale, Miss Summers. Rosenberg and Harris have as much at stake in this as you do."

"No, they have more," I whisper under my breath. "I'll do this alone. It's too dangerous for them."

"That has never stopped you from including them before."

"Dammit, I said no!" I slam my fist down, rattling his fancy desk with my Slayer strength. The next one won't be so gentle. "They've done enough. They deserve to have lives."

"And they will once you've completed your mission." He says it with such confidence, as if he honestly believes in our abilities. That's at least something. "You know as well as I that he won't allow that. Freeing Rayne was further evidence of that fact."

"I won't do it." I cross my arms, determined even though I know I'd already lost this battle before coming in here.

"I'm afraid it isn't your choice to make. The Council wants this wrapped up quickly and discretely. Since you three are already aware of the situation and the threat it proposes, naturally you are the ones the Council deems qualified to handle this rather sensitive operation."

"Fuck you." Yeah, that'll work.

"Yes, well… I'll be sure to note your disagreement with protocol on record, Miss Summers."

I sigh, a heavy the-world-is-ending-and-taking-me-with-it sigh. It's not new to me, the work. I've done this hundreds of times, faced hundreds of vampires and way too many Big Bads. But this… this is so completely different. This is one of our own. *Was* one of our own.

"If I'm going to do this, I'm doing it right. I want maps… every type you have; terrain, traffic, tourist, public works, especially sewers. Give me the works. I want all current stats on operations running in LA. I mean everything from pencil pushers to casualty rates and don't hold back the grisly details. If someone so much as broke a nail while serving a tour there, I want to know about it." We need to know what we're getting into. I need to know what sort of damage he's already done. God, I don't want to know.

"You have my word."

"I think you know what you can do with that." I turn to storm out.

"I realize this must be difficult for you…"

"Don't!" I swivel, interrupting his with a stern finger. "You can't even begin to understand how hard this is." I'm practically trembling with fury.

"I don't have to imagine what it's like to lose someone close to you. I'll have you know I lost Rebecca, my last active Slayer, not more than two years ago. It was like losing my own child. I, like many who serve the Council, understand well the grief and heartache that comes with burying our associates… our friends." I see the sympathy in his eyes. It's not enough. Never will be.

"Miss Summers. He was a good man and a brilliant Watcher. We owe it to him to prevent his honorable reputation from being tarnished by the actions of this pitiless demon that killed him. We owe it to Gi…"

"I swear on your soon-to-be-shallow grave that if you say his name, I will kill you." My fists are clenched so tightly that my nails are cutting into my palm, drawing blood.

"I'm being a very patient man but I don't take kindly to threats, Miss Summers. Seeing as how recent events have overshadowed your better judgment, I'll forgive and forget such indiscretions. You have twenty four hours to contact them both. If we haven't heard a response in forty eight, we will be forced to pursue further actions."

I stare at him, seeing only a suit now, a corporate logo. No soul remains. Is that what I'm becoming?

"I suggest that you make sure all your affairs are in order because if anything happens to them out there, I'm going to hold you accountable."

After I blame myself.

 **The Doctrine:**

Ethan reminds me of a child seeing Disneyland for the first time. His eyes are wide, taking in all that surrounds him with his new sight, smelling the air with his awakened senses. He'd spent months, perhaps even years dangling by deaths dull threat only to be forced over and through to a life beyond death. He is Peter Pan discovering Neverland and I have the unfortunate task of revealing there are dangers still awaiting him. But these pirates are far more deadly. They tout their morality of the just; declare themselves the righteous by way of humanity, all the while wielding an army of demon-seeded girls to do their bidding. Hypocrites, the whole lot of ‘em.

My ranting thoughts quiet as I watch Ethan move. There is a cocky spring in his step as we make our way within the depths of the abandoned strip mall. I see questions in his eyes and feel I have time now to address them appropriately. I gesture to my boys to break formation and spread out, securing the location as we continue on. They dutifully obey.

"Much has happened since your incarceration," I begin with a laughable understatement.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." He smirks and scans the deserted landscape of forgotten capitalism.

"Eight months ago, Los Angeles fell into chaos." His brows lift with my choice of words and his smile broadens. "As you can see, much of the city lies in ruins. All utilities are shut off and refused from outside resources. For all intents and purposes, this city is as dead as we are."

"Charming. And what glorious gods reigned down this brilliant plague?"

"Oddly enough, it was a law firm, Wolfram and Hart."

"Ah, I know it well. Worked a few petty jobs here and there. They paid well, never asked questions."

"They are responsible for ripping open dimensions and unleashing hells minions upon this unsuspecting soil." I take a moment to inspect the corridor ahead. "We are the inheritors of their impressive efforts."

"And when you say we?"

"Half-breeds, whole-breeds, blooded brethren and ancient beasts. Uncivilized demonists and demons alike. All walks of creature deemed inhuman, subhuman and thusly unworthy of existence. We are pests to be exterminated, Ethan. But we will not go quietly."

"Poetic. You've practiced this, haven't you?"

"To win over a callous audience," I admit. "We need your help, Ethan. I need you."

"Never heard such sweet songs as your singing now, Ripper." He's wary. Can't say I blame him. "Why?"

I am not ready to tell the tale. There are other things to attend to first.

"There is much to learn, Ethan."

"Lucky me, I could choose no better tutor."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Witch:**

The phone is ringing.

I don't have the energy to reach it. I haven't the motivation either. It'll be Buffy, I know it, but don't care. Things never change, even though I do. They need me. They always need me. I'm just a tired resource to be dusted off when all looks bleak and hard. I knew someone else who felt that way once. God I miss him… still.

The phone is ringing.

I hold my breath, fight back my bitterness and answer with a half-hearted. "Hello?"

"You've heard, right? You know?" Her voice is steady but I can hear the faint traces of anxiety there.

"Yeah... I mean, I know. I felt it." She'll ask me to explain, or maybe not. She's gotten used to my skills. Or should I say accustomed to them.

"Any info on the magicks front?" All business, as usual.

"I'm fine, thanks." God, what happened to us?

"Sorry Will, I don't mean to be one-track-mind girl. But this is bad. You know that, right?" She's trying to apologize in her usual unapologetic way. "You okay?"

I'm still lying in bed, holding on for dear life to my unsuspecting pillow. "Yeah, all things considered."

"I know what you mean." I hear sorrow in her tone and it somehow makes me feel better.

"So how are you? How's the Council?"

"It is what it is… and so am I." Back to no apologies. Sometimes I could hate her.

"It happened Sunday. There were no survivors, including the prisoners," I tell her with such coldness a shiver runs through me.

"It was him, wasn't it?"

"How would I know, Buffy. You're the one with all the resources and backing."

"Willow, please." That had to hurt.

"Yeah… it was him." We avoid his name as if it were blasphemy. Perhaps it is now.

"Are you okay?"

I want to say no but know it won't help the situation. Things need to get done and done quickly. There isn't time to waste. "Have you talked to Xander yet?"

"This morning."

"Andrew?"

"He won't talk to me." She pauses and I hear a heavy sigh, one I recognize all too well. "I need you, Willow . This is bad."

"Yeah… yeah, it is," I agree sadly. There's more she needs to know. I don't want to be the one to tell her, though I'm the only one who could know. "Buffy, he's turned Ethan. I felt his energies… um, change."

There's another long pause and I wonder if that had actually shocked her.

"American Airlines flight 1012 out of JFK, Thursday at 6:05am . Please come. Xander will already be here."

"And here is…?"

" Los Angeles . We're going in."

 **The Accommodations:**

I began to adapt to my new lot in death after a few days. Rupert had given me free reign of the east wing of the old department store. I chose to take up shop in home furnishings, passing the time by browsing the designer décor. Most of the time was spent resting, my only means of escape from the sickness. No matter how much I drink from the ruby bottles, I remain intolerably weak. I'm sure it hadn't helped matters that I overextending my magicks the night of the escape. But I'm quite certain the fact I've not fed… truly fed, has something to do with my continual illness.

Feeding is a complete mystery to me, encouraging my imagination to run rampant with the possibilities. What would it feel like to take that step, to drink from a live donor? It can't be all that difficult. My mouth waters with the idea even though I've never tasted vibrant blood. Rupert told me it would be soon and even though I look forward to that day with morbid excitement, it makes me incredibly nervous. I feel as though I were an undergraduate giving a solo presentation in front of classmates. In truth, I've not seen a vampire feed, even those I've worked for. Of course, I'd visited a suck house in my day but nothing of use comes to mind, most likely an indication of being completely lit at the time. Regardless, there are no examples for me to go by but what I've seen in campy films. No cheat sheets available to prepare me for my upcoming performance. To make matters worse, Rupert advised his would-be army to stay clear of me unless I required something. Even a lonely cheetah teaches its cubs to hunt. Was I to be left to my own devices and orphaned to a pitiless planet so soon?

Rupert's acting odd, to say the least. One minute proclaiming how much he needs me only to turn me then run off like some bloody contented one night stand. Leaving me to sit, abandoned and waiting for him like a hapless dope. I'm not sure what to make of his behavior. Perhaps its simply possessive jealousy or perhaps he wants to keep me sheltered from the harsh reality of what I've become. Regardless, I'm being kept well. Waited on hand and foot by my benefactors aids. Bottle feedings three times a night and a sweetly treat if I was a good little boy. It never satisfies, though, and I soon find myself fighting off the hunger that wouldn't die.

But things are looking up. I feel stronger today and decide to explore some of the other stores beyond my suite. The home furnishings department seems smaller today, cramped even. I crave open spaces more with every passing minute. Boredom has become my worst enemy. I suppose that is the price paid for such an afterlife. The only company I have is that of Rupert's when he finds the time to visit, my restless room service. Unfortunately for my growing tedium, I'd only spent that first day with him. Since then, he seems to busy himself with the running of his makeshift militia.

When I do manage to steal away a moment from the man of the hour, he says little of a personal sort, choosing instead to educate me on the altered state of this adopted world. He speaks a sad sort of politics, a candidate for the undead, I wager. Who am I to judge? At least he holds a spark, a purpose. Now all I need to do is find my own and see whether it fits into his. I occasionally interrupt his sermons, trying uselessly to pry out the gory details of his passing. He ignores the inquiry and moves on, acting as if I'd never asked. It only makes me more determined to find out the tale of his demise.

The mall is deathly quiet as I wander toward the gate separating me from the others. When I reach the barrier, I grip it and give it a tug only to find it locked and immobile. Perhaps I traded one cage for another.

"Hello?" I call out to the empty hall beyond. After a few seconds, a figure appears.

"What do you require, Sir?" The loyal lieutenant asks as he emerges from the shadows on the other side. He is a pretty youth, blonde, tousled curls crowning a chiseled face, high cheek bones, narrow chin, and the bluest eyes. Eyes reflecting the blue skies I'll never visit again. It is the first taste of melancholy since my passing.

"Um… Jacobs, if memory serves." I offer an engaging smile.

"Yes Sir." His face set firm.

"Come now… unlike Rupert, I don't go for all that rank rubbish. Name's Ethan."

"I know who you are, Sir." Tough sell, this one.

"As you wish. Where has Rupert wandered off too?"

"On rounds, Sir."

"Any idea when he'll return?"

"Varies with the route he chooses, Sir."

"I see. Thought I'd have a bit of a stroll and take in the sights. Do a little shopping for the ol' homestead. Mind lowering the drawbridge, as it were?"

"Standing orders are to keep you secured, Sir."

"Secured?" I don't like the sound of that. "Place seems fairly secure to me. Or is it me that needs security? You could escort me if you like. Promise I won't get into any trouble, though if there's a candy shop, you might have to wrestle me for the chocolates." I bait him with another smile and he still doesn't bite.

"I have my orders, Sir."

"I don't suppose I outrank you in your little play army here?" He shakes his head slightly, not at all amused. "Fine, I surrender. If it's not too much of a bother, would you mind keeping me company until he returns. Getting a bit lonesome in here. Could do with a spot of conversation."

"Standing orders are to keep our distance and ensure your safety, Sir."

"Do me a favor and drop the ‘Sir'." My sanity is questionable, enough. No need to further retard my remaining processes. "Why so worried about little ol' moi? Can hardly get more deceased, can I?"

"It's your talents, Sir. They're believed to be unstable."

"Says who?" I can't help but take offense.

"I'm sure he'll explain in detail when he returns, Sir." Jacobs marches back into the shadows and I'm left alone once again. I try the gate only to find it still fixed to the floor.

"Bloody wonderful," I growl and head back to my homely prison. "At least it's roomier than my last place. "Unstable? Seemed stable enough back in my cell, you pillock."

 **The News:**

 _"The quarantined martial territory formerly known as Los Angeles, was bombarded late this afternoon with specialized dispersion missiles aimed at countering an extreme outbreak of an as of yet unidentified deadly contagion. The Center for Disease Control continues to withhold comment on the mysterious infection spreading rapidly within the city limits but discounted early reports as 'untrustworthy and speculative'. The CDC denies allegations that containment operations are grossly understaffed and crudely executed, arguing that such claims are further proof of the feeding frenzy of misinformation sensationalized by an 'irresponsible media'._

 _"Accusations of media misinformation and negligence have become commonplace since the release of the now infamous 'Fang Gang' video over three months ago. This disturbing and controversial amateur video in which a gang of grossly deformed youths can be seen brutally raping and consuming the flesh of a female victim, claims to have been filmed within the boundaries of the 'secured sector' by local resident Gale Fox. Investigators quickly seized control of all footage and since then, declared it nothing more that a 'sophomoric prank by irresponsible film students'. Officials deny the films relevance to the inexplicable happenings rumored to be occurring within Old_ _Los Angeles_ _. They insist the situation is well under control and there is no need for concern._

 _"Meanwhile, the CDC's EIS officers have evacuated the infected locations, determining the environment to be hostile, and therefore unnecessarily risky for further onsite study. As efforts intensify to prevent the spread of the contamination, the local government has enlisted help from the CDC's partner federal agencies including the National Institutes of Health (NIH) as well as other unnamed military agencies. While initial survival rates statistics appear grim, officials assure the public that the problem has been contained within the city borders and that the safest way to avoid infection is to stay clear of the affected area entirely. As a precautionary measure, the National Guard has been brought in to reinforce the already heavily barricaded city._

 _"Rumors abound that numerous survivors have been seen within the quarantined territory and that those infected have become rabid, turning on others with outbursts of violent behavior. Though there have been no official responses to such claims, speculation has it that soldiers were ordered earlier today to shoot on sight anyone trying to exit the city._

 _"Of all the mixed messages, one thing is certain, the mystery of Old_ _Los Angeles_ _is far from solved."_

 **The Carpenter:**

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, eyes filled with worry as she carefully folds my favorite Hawaiian shirt and attempts to pack it in my overstuffed duffle bag.

"No, but when am I ever sure?" I shrug, trying to look more at ease than I actually am. Judging by her reaction, I don't think its working.

"How long will you be gone?"

There's never an easy answer to that.

"I don't know. It depends on a lot of things."

"…That you can't tell me," she grumbles. "Or won't tell me."

"That's my girl." I kiss her forehead and she stops me from pulling away, her blue eyes pinning me with a serious stare under an adorably crinkled brow.

"You better come." She insists.

"I will," I say in my most reassuring tone. "Of course you know you've jinxed me, now."

She pulls away, angry. "That's not funny, Xander. I hate this. I hate that they do this."

"I know, but it's my job. You knew that going in," I remind her gently as I spin the dial to the safe, going for the last item I need to finish packing.

"I didn't choose this, you know? I coulda picked someone else."

That deserves a glare. "You're way too smart for your own good."

"You don't have superpowers. You aren't like the others." Her voice softens. "I worry about you, Dad."

"That's why I have this." I remove my specially crafted pistol from the safe and check the chamber and safety. With a showy spin and twirl I'd perfected in my cowboy inspired youth, I slip the gun in my shoulder holster and smirk confidently. She's not a happy camper. God, she's growing up too fast. "You're ten, start acting like it. That's an order."

"I can't help it if I'm mature for my age." She pouts, reminding me of the day the papers where finalized, that bizarre day I became a legal guardian... a father. "Stop changing the subject."

"You love staying at uncle Andrews."

"Yeah, ‘cause he's a bigger kid than I am. That's not the point. You being gone looks bad."

"They won't take you away. They can't. Think of it as adoption insurance courtesy of The Council."

"And they never let you forget it."

She's right. The Council hasn't forgotten their old tricks. They hold the adoption over our heads just like they held revoking the green card from…

Fuck, I did it again.

I kneel before her and pull her tightly into my arms. It's as much for me as it is for her and she knows it.

"I love you, Sam." I really do and pull back so she can see it in my eye as well as hear it in my voice because I never heard it enough as a kid. "You know that. You are my world now. But something bad has happened and I have to stop it. I have to keep the world safe… keep you safe."

"It's the sad man, isn't it Dad?" she asks and I'm not sure what she's taking about. Always quick to pick up on my clueless face, she pulls away and runs over to the framed photo I keep at my desk, pointing to it. "Him… the sad man."

I can't answer, it hurts too much.

"Be good, sweety. I'll bring you back something."

I hoist the duffle bag over my shoulder and move quickly toward the front door. I peek out the peep hole as Sam's footsteps hurry after me. They're here already, the Council's unmarked black car. It's a welcome escape from questions but I hate that I'm going away again.

"I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, baby."

She isn't crying. She knows it only makes it harder on me. God, I love her. This never gets any easier.

"Be careful," she begs quietly.

"Always." What else can I say?


	4. Chapter 4

**The Lesson:**

I stalk the home furnishings department in hunt for a firmer mattress. It's as if I suddenly require the feeling of stone rather than feathers, instinct perhaps to be tucked away within the confines of a coffin. How bloody common. I test a few, finding none suitable then hear the sound of the rickety gate to the linens department lifting. I take a few steps forward then stop, feeling an inexplicable nervousness flare in my gut. The air hangs thick with a familiar scent, a pleasant one. I sense Rupert in the distance and sure enough, his form emerges from the far off shadows. Still, my anxiety doesn't wane, an uncomfortable churning within that sets my body on edge. I notice him moving awkwardly through the displays as he makes his way towards me. That's when I smell it, the perfume of fear.

"Ethan, the sun's set. Time to wake," Rupert calls out as if he's announcing himself to me. Something's happening. Then it dawns on me, the day has come. My body readies for the test but I've forgotten the answers. At any minute I expect to find myself naked and late for finals.

"I hope this evening finds you well." He says, ever the proper gentleman, as he continues to make his way along.

"Better than most." The thumping in my mind begins to drown out all other sound.

What is eliciting this startling reaction? It's a new sickness, intensifying as he approaches. I catch a glimpse of his distracted features, glancing to and away and I follow his eyes to see a hunched over and hooded figure with him. It's being forced through the shadows by Rupert's direction. They step out from the final aisle and I see the figures arms tied behind them and their clothes ripped and soiled, bare footed and stumbling to keep upright. It reeks of fear; urine, sweat and endorphins coming together in an aromatic feast that makes my mouth water. Another whiff and I decipher the undeniable scent of femininity. It's a woman. No, not even… just a girl, young and ripe with the sickly sweet bouquet of dead blood seeping from her.

"Your instruction begins tonight, Ethan. Or had you forgotten?" He addresses me as if I were a student, remnants of his Watcher days, I suppose. With an effortless push, Rupert sends the hooded girl collapsing to the dusty ground and she immediately assumes a fetal position, quivering within her own shadows. Rupert stands at ease, hands folded together behind him, eyes staring at me, watching.

"I'd not forgotten." The fever is devastating. My hands tremble and sweat. My mouth dries like a desert and my groin stiffens with false life.

"I know it's difficult, but do try and listen. What you're feeling is natural," Rupert explains calmly. "Naturally unnatural in that it's only for us, collectively shared among our kind. It is a physical response generated on behalf of the presented stimulus. This creature contains what you need to survive and your body is informing you of that fact by way of the only means available. Pain, sickness, weakness; these may seem to be disadvantageous but in fact are benefits of our evolved natures."

I try to listen but the pumping of her heart is deafening music, a fatal temptation. And then the pain sets in, an agony to end all agonies. I fold over, grasping at my midsection as the muscles writhe into knots. My legs stiffen and I stagger backwards, tripping onto a bed.

"It hurts. Christ, it hurts." My body tenses as if rigor mortis was finally setting in. It is a brutal torture.

"It's the hunger." He tilts his head, speaking with faint sympathy and purpose. "Even if you've fed, you'll feel some form of it when a human violates your vicinity. It's difficult to interpret when other vampires are about. They tend to confuse the instincts, causing mixed signals, so to speak. This is why I secluded you to this wing. Without their company, you should clearly feel the reaction. Remember it well, it may spare you a dusty end."

"Make it stop." More plea than demand, but Rupert continues on with his tutorial.

"In time, Ethan." Rupert walks a circle around the hooded girl. "Much as a Slayer has a highly evolved impulse alerting her to our presence, we have ours alerting us to our prey." He stops. "And make no mistake about it, they are our prey." He unmasks her with a grand flourish.

When I lay my eyes on her, I'm moved to tears. She is a rare beauty, eyes large and green, locks of fiery hair generously curled, pulled back into a ponytail, cheeks rosy though turning ashen with dread. She sees me and tries to call out for help, gnawing ineffectually at her gag, jerking and twisting to be free from her captor. Rupert is unbothered. He grips her arms and yanks her to her feet but her knees buckle under her. She's completely beside herself with fear and he has to support her to keep her upright.

"You feel it, don't you? Your body telling you what you need to do… what comes next. To make the pain stop, Ethan, you must feed." In hearing the instruction, the girl screams and tries to work free from his grip. It's futile, he pays little attention to her, staring forward, staring expectantly at me.

Though I sense his observation, I can't take my eyes off her, even with the anguish of the sickness racking my entire body. She's so young, so scared and with those green eyes pleading to me, I feel an echo of sympathy, of mercy and doubt.

"There's no place for that now," Rupert corrects me quietly as the girl sobs within his clutches. "What you're feeling, the human emotions that persist within you, they're useless here and only serve to hinder you."

"Bring me a bottle. Isn't that not enough?"

"No, it's not enough. What you're going through is something we've all endured, Ethan. Though you're never truly rid of those human emotions, they will deaden in time. You'll see, you'll understand once you've fed. This is the final step… and the hardest."

As if mental encouragements to succumb to Rupert's wishes, my mind fills with disturbing images, all worse then the preceding. Violent bursts of blood curdling screams, of unhinged terror and I am the willing and able cause. Snapshots of burying my itching teeth into her red stained and most intimate flesh. Glimpses of ravaging her as she begs for death and even after I've granted it, tasting her again and again. She is only a child and yet my decaying thoughts betray what lingering morality bleeds from me. I am a monster.

"I don't think I can."

"You must."

She's begging me with pitiful whimpers now. Rupert's expression changes to empathetic. He cups the girls chin and directs her face towards him. She looks away and he forces her back again and again. Still, she denies him, battling to the last.

"See here," he orders her gently. "Look at me. Look… at… me…"

Defeated, she finally looks, eyes tearful and sore, sucking labored breaths through her ragged gag. Rupert caresses her cheek and smiles. It is a compassionate smile, one of kindness, of virtue, of patience. And he whispers sweetly, "There's no need to fear, child. You feel no pain, only peace."

She quiets, absorbed within his mild green eyes promising tranquility.

"Good girl. Now go introduce yourself to Ethan."

He bows forward, placing a kiss to her forehead and continues further down, placing a tender kiss to her lips then continues even further down to her neck. I can't see what he's doing but my body senses it, quaking with need and desire. When Rupert pulls back, his mouth is sodden with crimson, yet his features remain humanly. The girl stands dazed in a trance, her neck torn open and pulsing out a spray of blood.

"Drink Ethan."

Rupert guides the girl to step forward until she's showering me with her hearts final beats. I watch in shock and revulsion as the blood rains down upon my face. Instinctively, I lick a drop from my lips and instantly feel a rush of euphoria with the taste. Without warning, I lunge to claim the pulpy wound, sopping up all that I can. It's ecstasy, the sensation of stealing her life, a life I feel coursing through my veins with every swallow.

"Cliché as it sound, this is what we are, Ethan. You'll understand in time, just as I did. As we all did. It takes time, as does all change."

Rupert consoles me as I feed, caressing my sweat speckled brow. It seems oddly tender until I realize that this, as with all his actions, serves a purpose. I can feel how I've changed under his fingertips, my features having adjusted with the protruding ridges of the demon. I begin to understand what it is I've become. As I choke down the blood of the innocent I grip savagely in my hands, I reflect on how easily I transformed from man to beast. All with a single drop of liquid life.

 **The Gathering:**

"So what's the plan? We go in with stakes blazing and dust anything without a pulse?" I ask as I make myself comfortable in the seat near the bathroom. Buffy doesn't look amused. As a matter of fact, she looks down right wigged. Can't say I blame her. We've done this dance before and came out with our toes smashed. LA has been chocked up as a complete loss by all agencies who have tried taking it back. What makes the Council think we'll make any difference?

"I'll tell you when Willow gets…"

"Hey."

I turn to see Willow standing by the hotel room door, her shoulders and arms loaded with bags and sporting a very un-Willowy frown. I'm immediately on my feet and hugging the stuffing out of her. For a second, it feels like old times.

"My witchy Willow . Little Miss Magicks herself, how are you?" I give her one last squeeze and finally back away to let her breathe again.

"Good, kinda. How've you been, Xander?" She asks unenthusiastically and takes a seat on the bed before Buffy can get her chance at a hug.

"Not bad," I say, shrugging it off as I pass Buffy to return to my previous seat. "Not good, but not bad. How's mediocre sound? Just this side of hanging on by a thread?"

"Sounds just about right," Will smiles and it brightens the room. Man, I've missed her.

"Thanks for coming," Buffy says softly, forehead creased with worry.

"Save the thanks for when we have him, okay?"

She sounds so harsh, so anti-Willow it hurts. I suddenly feel the need to fill the silence.

"Hows about we give the Buffster a break. We're all family here. It's not like it's her fault or anything."

"That's a matter of opinion," Willow says under her breath and Buffy doesn't even attempt to argue the point. She knows what Willow means. We all do.

"This wasn't my idea. I didn't want you guys involved."

"Hear that, Xander? Isn't it just super peachy to be wanted?"

"You know what I mean. I didn't want you guys to have to do this. It's my job."

Never a good thing to say, and before Willow can respond, I step between them.

"Look, we're all here now, like it or not. Council ordered Scooby reunion so let's get over it. Okay? As in get past it and move on."

I pause long enough to watch for argument and cut them both off before they start.

"This is us, okay? Us as in a team us with the ‘rah, rah, rah's'. Go team Scooby's? Remember back when we used to be friends? Well, let's revisit those happy days, shall we?"

"I'm sorry," Buffy says and both Willow and I are a bit shocked. But she said it and seems to be backing it up with her remorse face so that's something.

"So am I," Willow gives a little. "Let's get to work."

"So who else is party crashing this bar mitzvah?" I ask, hoping we quickly move on to more pressing matters like having more troops coming.

Buffy steps forward to chime in with the details. "This is what we know. The Initiative is engaging in blanket air raids meant to flatten cells throughout the city, targeting buildings that are possibly housing the insurgents. So far their efforts to keep the borders secure are successful and they've kept the demon population from spreading beyond the boundaries of the city. Now they're expanding their scopes in expectation to infiltrate the city itself. They've gained full support of local Special Forces units but it's the Council who's really running the show. They've arranged for special ops and wetworks teams to infiltrate the city limits in ongoing offensive attacks. Their purpose will be to surgically remove previously identified and tracked hostiles. I think it's safe to assume a small army, though there are no official numbers being released to avoid revealing our strategy to the enemy."

‘Enemy' I laugh, an unintentional chuckle catching us all off guard. They glance over with disturbed looks and my smile quickly fades.

"Sorry. It just struck me as funny, is all."

Buffy tries to return to business. "The city is most secure…"

"I mean… to think of him like that, ‘the enemy'." I punctuate quotes with my fingers and shrug uselessly. They both stare at me and I can see Willow 's empathetic smile. She gets it. Always has. "Its good tactics, though, isn't it? To keep this hush, hush? An undercover operation of undisclosed participants targeting him."

They stare, worried with my ramblings. Frankly, I don't care.

"I mean, we don't even call him by his actual name anymore. It's like a dirty word or something. So, rather than risk an accidental slip of the tongue, we avoid the subject all together. It's like he never existed, like he doesn't exist." It aches all over again. I thought I'd gotten past this, damnit!

"They aren't targeting him." Again, Buffy tries to return to business and I'm actually relieved when she does.

"What?" Willow asks.

"Wetworks and Special Forces, their job is to reduce the vampires overall numbers. Strike anything that moves. They aren't targeting him specifically."

"So if the Council and the Initiative are sending their big guns, their very bestest and brightest, what's our part in this?" Willow gets right to the point. We've known each other far too long for bullshit.

"Intel hasn't collected much data. What little I managed to get my hands on is totally lame; sketchy location reports, unreliable hostiles stats. In essence, we got nothing but pages of numbers amounting to a big zero. After a lot of stuffy headed deliberation, the Council has determined that the best course of action is to go for the brain. Down side is they don't know where he is. They're sending us in to try and flush him out." Buffy sounds as logical and detached as any soldier. Riley would be impressed.

"Translation, we're the bait," I say bitterly.

"Or the decoy," Willow adds with just as much resentment.

"No," Buffy says with a cutting hostility. "We're the executioners."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Watch:**

He slips in quietly, shoulders slouched forward, head heavy with fatigue but he still manages a smile for me.

"Good morning, Jacobs." His green eyes glance beyond the metal gate into the home department, fingers rustling though his hair as he lets out a yawn. Of all the vampires I've known, he seems the most human. It's his strength, I think… able to hide away his demon from the world. He must have had a demon inside him before he was turned, to be so adept at masking it.

"Good morning sir." I nod respectfully. "How did rounds go?"

"Without incident. I should enjoy this while I can. Things will change soon enough."

"You think they're coming, Sir?"

"I guarantee it." He gives me a discomfited smile but still has an air of confidence about him. Another of his gifts I wish I had. "Anything from our guest?"

"Still sleeping, Sir." I can't help my curiosity. "Forgive my prying, Sir, but how did the feeding go?"

"As well as can be expected. He's confused, still quite weak, but he's beginning to understand." There is concern in his stare.

"He's fortunate to have your guidance, Sir. I remember when I woke… alone, scared, hungry."

"You were quite the mess. I remember when I found you." He smirks a little in recollection. "You've done well for yourself. But I fear it's different for him."

"How so, Sir?"

His gaze quickly shifts from the darkness to me in warning not to press my luck. "It just is, Jacobs. Let me know if he needs anything."

"He'll be alright, Sir." I know it's not much coming from a lackey but I feel the need to reassure him somehow.

"Thank you, Jacobs."

I watch him take one last glance and move on with his face bowed forward in contemplation. He thinks too much. It can't be good for him.

 **The Invasion:**

We enter from the south end of the city, taking advantage of dried aqueducts, and slowly make our way north. The plan is as it always has been, to be discrete, keeping our presence hidden for as long as we can. But I know he's expecting us. I would. Still, I try to keep my mind from worrying about that. I focus on the trail ahead; stagnant waters smelling of waste and death. The whole city probably smells of death now. After all, it is a city of the dead. We living are the outsiders here. The path isn't too hard. What Buffy can't heft out of our way, I zap clear. Xander takes on the more difficult role of navigator, helping us avoid the most likely candidate tunnels for ambushes and heavily vamp infested hot spots. After all, our purpose here is not to engage all vampires but to seek and destroy one particular vampire. And that is the bitterest pill to swallow.

Things are quiet enough as we make our way through the winding cement tunnels and collapsing sewers lines. It reminds me of the concrete veins of Sunnydale. Hard to believe I'd ever miss that place, but I do sometimes. Actually, I miss what it represented to us. It wasn't a Hellmouth. It was a home, our home. But they got it, didn't they? The demons, the evil-doers and darkness took it whole. That's why they sent us here, to keep Los Angeles from becoming another Sunnydale. I think it's too late, though you'd never guess it from the beginning leg of our journey.

The outlying borders of the city are vacant of any vampires. Most the expedition getting inside is uneventful. Sure enough, as we surface to make our way into South Central we find evidence of a hive waiting for us in an abandoned bus station.

"I'm going in to take a peek. You guys stay down here." Buffy, our competent commander, wants to assess the situation as she climbs the wreckage of a ladder leading to the surface. I can't help but doubt every possible action she chooses. After all, who did she learn from? Who did we all learn from?

"No way I'm letting you go it alone up there," Xander objects, his manly pistol at the ready to empty into the first unfortunate beast to show it's face. Always the cowboy.

"We can try another way in, Buffy. There are probably tons of routes we can take," I suggest.

"Actually, the schematics show the tunnel is filled beyond here. It's up or back or nothing," Xander corrects me. I have a bad feeling about this.

"I rally for us sticking together," I insist. "We're stronger together. Always were."

"Just a quick peek, guys. Stay here. I'll be back in 2?"

"Two what?" Xander whispers furiously. "Two minutes, two months, two years?" She's already up the ladder and carefully lifting the metal grate.

"Some thing's never change, huh?" I whisper and shrug.

"Some thing's change too much." He's right, we've all changed. "I remember a day when orders used to be requests."

"And when you didn't carry guns." I'm not trying to mask my disappointment.

"Hey, you have your hocus pocus a-packin'. I go for the Freudian equalizer, okay?"

"Whatever works, I guess."

"I say we go up."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to say that." I smile and watch Xander climb. He hurries through and I quickly follow but by the time we make it to the surface, it's too late.

"There were five. All dusted," Buffy says, slightly winded as she harnesses her stake within her belt loop. "No biggie."

"Are you okay?" Xander asks, mostly concerned but I can hear frustration there. If we don't work together, this won't work.

"Yeah. But really, they were so not ready for me. Kinda scared and panicky actually. I had to finish them off or they could report back to…" She pauses, brow crinkled with the thought crashing her back to reality. "They might have talked."

"No need to explain, Buff. Just don't like being sidelined, is all." He's trying to be diplomatic but I've lost my patience for it.

"It was stupid." I state my mind and Buffy shoots me a glare. "We need to be together on this or we'll be…"

"Dead?" Buffy finishes sharply. "Look, I don't want you here."

"Again with the love." I sigh.

"But I don't have a choice. I know that. So I'm going to try my darndest to keep you both alive and safe."

"How ‘bout we make us a deal, here. We'll keep us safe, Buffy. You keep you safe and we'll all keep the world safe. It's the way we've been doing it for years." It almost sounds like a joke. One none of us can argue with.

"Fine, let's go do this thing. But I'm not making any promises." She responds and I can actually see a bit of the old humor there. Just a hint, but its there. I miss it.

We make our way through the building. I keep in continuous contact using telepathy to keep Xander and Buffy alerted to movements I hear or shift's of essences. We come across a few vampires, ones obviously not in the loop because they are clueless as to who we are and what we're doing there. But before I have a chance to act, Buffy dusts the entire gang and continues on without so much as a single word. Old habits die hard I guess. We'll die harder if we can't get past this.

We stop at a large, shattered window. It's our first look at the city and we're awed to silence. There is nothing left but a shell, a hollowed out skeleton. The landscape is a desolate, crumpled wreckage of twisted metal protruding out from cement pilings reaching toward the dusky heavens like desperate hands praying. If only the sun never went down, we could contain them.

 **The Lies:**

He is sleeping soundly when I approach, naked and splayed out on the bed, claiming every inch he can on the queen size bed of his choosing. I stand at the foot, gazing down at him as if he were a painting on display, one in my very own private collection. He looks far better than when I'd found him, his body thickening up well with every passing day like a nursing offspring building its strength. I should wake him but I choose instead to take the quiet moment to appreciate my guest of honor. And with the assessment, I realize that for all the years I've known him, there is something I simply can't deny. Ethan Rayne is a beautiful man.

Not as a rose is beautiful, but perhaps more in the realm of the artistic. A figure crafted out of fleshy clay to be tall yet not lanky, perfectly suited for his frame. A torso built for speed, compressed and high positioned, taut muscled and ready for fight or flight; flight being his usual preference. I remember his talent on the track, carried swiftly by those lengthy, tight legs of his. Legs fashioned for perpetual motion, never staying in one place long enough to be caught. But he let me get the best of him on more than one occasion. I often wondered if he wanted me to catch him.

My curious eyes wander lower, admiring his stomach, concaved slightly with his stretching out in all directions. The toning of his muscles is evident though not abundantly so. He has meat to him, a pleasing weight that amplifies his shapely physique. There is an understated strength that commands respect, or at the very least, dark curiosity. Though I would never pay him that compliment for fear of a retort from that arrogant tongue.

Then I find my eyes venturing further down, beyond his dimpled abdomen, to admire his promising flesh lying at rest on the nest of black curls. I should be embarrassed, inhibited even, but I'm not, not now. It's different now. We're different now. Everything is. The vision generates a tug down low, echoing in me from the very place I was drawn to on the sleeping sculpture of a man. This was something I'd forgotten. Something I'd never admit to myself and especially never to Ethan. But as I consider it now, my reservation seems such an unnecessary obligation. We had been friends once, good friends, bonded in magicks and life's experiences. I can't help but wonder what we might have been if my upbringing hadn't shunned such possibilities and my calling hadn't separated us so many years ago.

"You can join me if you like. But a warning, I'm apt to steal the sheets." His plump lips curl to a smile as his eyes lazily open to greet me.

"Night's come, Ethan. It's time to get up. You need to eat." I casually draw my attention away from his rising flesh but find it frustratingly mesmerizing. My body takes to mimicking his, slowly betraying my indifference with uninvited arousal. He can smell it. I know he can, just as I do his.

"Later. Come have a lie down, Rupert. I haven't seen you rest since this adventure began. You look dead on your feet." He chuckles at his morbid wit, leading me to chuckle and the moment quickly passes into silence. He pats the mattress, making room for me as he slips beneath the sheets. I deny his request with a grateful smile.

"I haven't the time, Ethan."

I do what I've always done, the cowardly excusing of myself to other obligations. Better than the worse, cutting down his expectation with a crude remark aimed at making myself feel better and him less than a man. He stares through my excuses and offers an easy smile, not willing to show his disappointed. He's as used to being disappointed as I am to disappointing.

I have a reason for being here, to reveal the reason he is here. "I have to tell you something while I have the chance. You deserve to know why I keep you locked away in here."

He props himself up on his elbows and offers me a crooked smirk. "Not complaining, mate. Figured you had your reasons. Besides, going from an eight by eight to this grand expanse… quite the step up."

It was not a well disguised attack, rather an ungentle reminder of what he still held me responsible for. I had to admit, I saw things differently now, in more ways than one. Had I known then what I know now. No sense admitting what he should already know. I force a deep breath and smell no others nearby. Now I need only to trust in his discretion. Honestly, I should know better.

"And look here, Rupert, a different bed for every night. Come give it a spring."

"When I said I needed you, I meant it," I begin softly. He quiets and watches me as I carefully choose my words. "What I'm about to tell you, the others don't know and must never know."

"Alright," he responds warily, brows knit with concern.

"What looks to be paradise by all accounts is actually a self inflicted asylum. In truth, we are a dying breed, Ethan. What is left of our kind has sought exile here in the ruins of the city. This is the only haven left for our kind. All others have been sanitized from the face of the earth. The world is infested with Slayers now and the Council has all but perfected the means to bring us to the brink of extinction."

His head falls sideways as he assumes me to be exaggerating the facts. "And you would know this…?"

"Because I was an integral part of ensuring our extinction." I hold a strange sort of pride in that fact, even with my recent awakening.

"Well done, Watcher." He sits up, folding his hands in front of him and growing ever more impatient. "Enough of the gloom and doom, Rupert. Talk to me."

"I need a spell. An incredibly potent spell."

"I'm listening."

"As you know, magicks don't mix well with demons, particularly of the vampiric variety. Sorcerers and witches who've been brought over have all but lost their skills quickly after the transformation or self destructed with anything more challenging than a basic glamour. And then there's you."

"What makes you so pompously confident I'll be any different than the rest?"

"Because you're chaos, Ethan." I can't help but smile. He has no conception of his importance. "The very thing I condemned you for may very well be our only salvation. It's the balance, Ethan… the weight and measures to magicks that make accountable those who choose to brandish mystical energies. When someone is turned, the sacrifice in trade for eternity is the loss of ones mystical capabilities. Those who tempt fate by tapping into their lost powers pay dearly the most extreme penalty. But chaos… chaos magicks are beyond the rules governing other magicks. They are untamable, relentlessly adaptable, ultimately formidable, and unquestionably unruly. You, Ethan, are the exception to the rule."

"I'm tiring of your lessons, Rupert. Get to a point, if you actually have one."

"This is our city, a miniscule parcel of tainted land deemed uninhabitable. Yet they insist on reclaiming it, ripping it from us a block at a time. They have the means and the might. They strike us when we are most vulnerable. They have and will continue to do so and we're helpless to defend ourselves. If we're to keep our sanctuary, we must regain the advantage here. In order to do that, I need for you to stain the sky with everlasting night."

"You're bloody mad." He snickers in disbelief but I'm not laughing.

"Centered above us, above the city…. were the land blanketed by night we could defend ourselves like proper soldiers. It's been done before. It's what set in motion the fall of man here to begin with."

"I say again, you're insane."

I can't beg anymore than I already am and I know he sees it. What I'm asking for is beyond anything he's ever attempted and could mean oblivion for him if anything goes wrong. I fear I've lost him as he shakes his head. Then I see a spark of hope with that mischievous smile of his.

"It's worth a shot."

I could hug him had I not a thread of pride restraining me. I settle for a smile and he sees my appreciation and more, I fear. Those black eyes that see the truth through every disgusted glare, see concern under every indifferent stare, see faith behind every sneer… he sees it too. Ever the exhibitionist, he slips out from the sheets and stands there before me, naked. I shake my head, feigning frustration while chuckling at that impish grin. That soon leads him to chuckle and then we cascade into outright laugher at the thought of what absurdity we were planning. The frivolous laughs die off and we suddenly fall silent, the severity of the situation sobering us both.

"If I do this for you…" he says quietly as he takes a step towards me, "…what do I get in return?"

"I rather thought eternal life was payment enough."

"What's eternal life if spent alone?" He takes another step. "Besides, there's no such beast as eternity, Rupert. You know that as well as I. For all their claims of eternal life, it's nothing but postponement of the inevitable."

"What do you want, Ethan?"

We share a silent exchange of meaningful glances, each saying more than what words could portray. His gaze shifts to my lips and back. Involuntarily, I reflect his subtle movements, feeling that affecting tug at my groin as I glimpse his stout cock awakened. He takes a step and then another. My gaze gives way, seeking escape in his graceful motion. I watch as his body works to propel him towards me. He stands inches away, face to face, and I thank the fates for silencing my heart. If he could hear it, it would be a deafening beat.

Ethan Rayne is a beautiful man.

I swallow, trying to moisten my dry mouth and Ethan smiles at the sight of it.

"Cover yourself, Ethan. We have work to do." I say it with little sincerity but it's enough to set him to the task. He's used to disappointment, and now, so must I be.

"Someday soon, I won't be taking orders, Rupert." He wiggles into his tight, black jeans and straightens up, unbuttoned and defiant. "I'll be giving them."

"Perhaps," I say softly. I want to dare him to resist and take what he wants but something stops me. "We'll see."

We smell the intruder before we see or hear him and are both disappointed with the interruption.

"They've come, just as you said they would, Sir," Jacobs reports. "Numbers aren't clear, yet, but we count at least two teams landing on the highest roofs of the city."

"Arrogant fools. Invading after dark, they must have a death wish." I smirk, trying to display confidence when I know the reality of things. The assaults are increasingly more ingenious and well aimed. Our numbers are fading and our safe havens depleted. We are at our last stand, but they, my loyal boys, must never know.

"Who's this now, Rupert?" Ethan asks then takes a swig of a nearby blood bottle. He admires Jacobs with a shameless grin. The young boy shyly glimpses Ethan in his revealed state and shifts towards me. I find myself holding back a remark I know would only encourage Ethan further. It's a game, his game. I can play as well.

"We have ourselves some gentlemanly callers?" Ethan asks, fastening his jeans. He winks at Jacobs who patiently awaits my orders.

"Not at all. The Council has sent sheep ripe for the slaughter. Care to join us in an evening of sport?" Ethan could do with a bit of solid field time before the real threats show themselves, as I know they will.

"I'm game, Ripper." He salutes with a playful smile, coaxing a smile from me.

"Always were the gambling type, you bloody tease." I shake my head and roll my eyes. Jacobs is pleased with our interaction.

"It's good to see you happy, Sir." The young man says innocently and I practically gasp with his observation. Ethan didn't need to hear that.

"Yes, isn't it, though?" Ethan's smile widens with the smugness he wields so well.

"Good lord, don't say things like that. I'll never hear the end of it." He's right, though. I can't recall the last time I laughed. Ethan's reminded me of something I thought I'd lost. Odd how I would find it again in such a circumstance and with an unlikely source as a former adversary.

"Right you are." Ethan chuckles and winks. He turns and begins marching playfully out to rejoin my boys. "Come along, Captain. Let's paint our town red."

"I'd love to." I heartily agree and hurry after him.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Night:**

The streets are quiet except for nocturnal scavenger demons. The Council ordered them cleansed as well but none of us can do it. They aren't dangerous, just trying to survive like any of us.

We make it to the city's center without drawing any attention to ourselves except for some wandering bands of foraging bums. I warn them to leave the city but they don't listen. Their loss. Their risk. I tried. We move on, grumbling about how stupid they are but it's probably the only home they know. Besides, where would they go? Where could they go?

My team is solid, quiet and all stealthy like. Xander, Willow and I had become really good at covert techniques, learning from a master. Our teacher being one of the very same beasts we now stalked.

I think Angel understood the dangers better than any of us. Perhaps he knew somehow, that one day this moment would come, the day one of our own would fall and become the hunted. I remember his expression when I told him the news because there was no emotional reaction, just some words of advice. It seemed so wrong, inhuman and harsh at the time. I thought maybe some small part of him was glad, like he held a grudge. Spike had, why not Angel? I know that's horrible but it's what I first thought. Sometimes I still do. But then I remind myself of what he said and think it through and realize he's right.

"Don't think, act.

Don't feel, stake.

Don't remember, because he will."

I think we all sort-of hated Angel for that. It seemed an impossible thing, to not remember. But after the first time we faced him, the beast, we knew Angel's words were gospel if we were to survive.

As we slowly move along, I try to think like him, all tweed and tea, books and snacks. I get into a certain frame of mind. I want to believe he'd be held up in a library or museum somewhere but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? He's too smart for that. Smarter than me and Xander put together. Even smarter than Willow , I think, though he would never admit it. But he is… was…

…is.

I look up and sigh. The stars are shimmering in the sky tonight, like some Vegas lightshow. It's the only beauty I see here. I wonder if he's looking too.

 **The Bloodying:**

I was never fond of heights and my death made no amendments to that fact. Of course Rupert shows no fear of any kind as he leads his men quietly to the rooftop where a team of invaders was reported to have touched down. They all seem so confident and daring, a merry band of vampires taking to the edge of the sky in a battle for a patch of forsaken real-estate. What's all the bloody fuss?

I take a moment to appreciate the air. The night smells crisp and clean, except for the sickly sweet stink of fear on the breeze. I don't see the trespassers, yet I can smell their fear and feel the hunger that it generates. This is another lesson, I realize. Rupert is probably taking notes. Arrogant berk.

As if hearing my thoughts, said berk glares a warning at me to stay back. I consider refusing to strain his patience but choose on the side of caution, deciding to observe rather than act. So I become a sort of shadow to Rupert, another set of eyes keeping watch as the men spread out and take their places in the creases of night darkening the corners of the rooftop. They appear prepared. They have their swords, their knives, their demons ready to turn their enemies inside out. But in truth, the only one I feel any attachment for is Rupert.

No matter all the inspirational talk of the greater good for vampire kind, I couldn't care less as long as he is safe. This revelation is most unsettling, a strange and sudden change of heart, for lack of a better phrase. I've never cared for anyone or anything but myself and my own happiness, never looked out for anyone's hide but my own. Yet now, I am unmistakably drawn toward protectiveness for the very same man who locked me away for many years of my life and deserted me prior to that. Now I am cursed with this nonsensical, bloody bond. I'd rather believe it was of a less than righteous nature, possessiveness for the sake of my future pleasures. Perhaps he'll let down his guard so I can steal a taste of those lips. I just can't shake the feeling that it goes deeper. Who would think such nobility could be born in the heart of a beast when it was absent within the man?

With the wandering beam of a single flashlight, war erupts before my very eyes. Heavily armored soldiers dressed in fatigues announce their presence with a deafening hail of gunfire and Rupert's boys charge into the row without so much as a single misstep. Rupert rushes after a trio of soldiers, quickly disappearing behind a barricade of bent aluminum piping and I am forced to find my entertainment elsewhere.

I spot Jacobs and watch as Rupert's number one man holds his own against two helmeted soldiers. He attacks with a vicious series of strikes to their plated torsos and legs. Both men fall to their knees, broken and terrified. Jacobs unsheathes a katana from a holster on his back and beheads them both with a stunningly accurate slice. As their bodies fold, I swear I can feel my dead heart racing, as if motivated back to life with the aroma of their blood.

My attentions shift to another young beast, barely sixteen, charging into the feud. Two invaders catch sight of him and open fire. Bullets burst along the boy's chest but he continues charging, like some over zealous disciple. The soldiers stand casually, unworried as they reload. This should be an interesting slaughter. Then I notice the fresh wounds begin to glow with an eerie illumination. The young vampire stops, looking down with alarm at his now smoking chest. The ragged edges begin to smolder and ash and soon it spreads out to cover the entirety of his body. In seconds, he transforms to dust before my eyes. There's nothing left, no evidence of his existence but the stale taste of filth evaporating with the wind. I should pity him, but I don't. I pity myself and Rupert and the legacy of dirt we'll leave with our passing.

A howl sounds as I witness another vampire vanish into the night and wonder where our fearless leader is. He appears from behind, leaping up over my head to land soundly right before me, drenched from head to toe in blood.

"Are you hurt?" I gasp quietly, drawn towards him and the lovely red.

"Stay and watch," he orders gruffly and I obey.

With a shout reminiscent of a confident war cry, Rupert evolves into a savage predator. His brow extends crooked, wrought with a furious anger as his green eyes turn to flame, paying me the reward of a final glance before joining his men. His transformation stirs something animal in me, inspired by the purity of his brutal beauty.

Rupert's army instinctively makes room for him, parting like the Red Sea with some sixth sense to steer clear of his path. He bounds boldly into the thick, immediately surrounded by a half a dozen heavily armed soldiers. They take aim and fire their rifles but the vampire is already moving and drawing their fire with him. In a storm of misdirected friendly fire, bullets rip into the backs of preoccupied soldiers, downing three before those firing become aware of their reckless actions. More soldiers rush in to take out the threat, armed with knives and stakes to avoid making the same blunder as their comrades. Rupert barks out orders as he faces off against each challenger.

With a boot to the stomach and a snapping wrench of a wrist, a stake falls unused to the pebbled ground. The man falls to his knees in pain but is silenced before he manages a whimper, his head twisted swiftly to separate from his shoulders. Without so much as a blink, Rupert shifts focus to his next target, tossing aside the head as if it were rubbish. The intended prey, a young soldier, manages to shoot off a few rounds. He suffers the wrath of the charging vampire, watching helplessly as the magnificent beast sends the weapon spinning abruptly about face to pierce the soldiers chest clean through. The boy quivers in shock as Ripper pulls back the trigger, firing the gore dripping rifle at another line of soldiers. Five are struck and fall, screaming in agony. Ripper swivels fast, dodging more gunfire as he sinks to the ground and sweeps an approaching soldier's legs out from under him. The man's legs fracture and he buckles with a thud to the rooftop. Ripper dives for his neck and tears off a chunk of sinewy flesh. He pounces upright and spits the gnawed meat into a charging soldiers face. The man's eyes go wide in horror as he glances down to see his partner's pulse spilling out onto his boots. Ripper takes advantage of the inaction; grasping the young soldier's helmet and snapping his neck clean round.

With a perverse chuckle, Ripper's golden gaze seeks me out. He ducks forward, grasps a fistful of armor and lifts the bleeding youth easily. Making sure I'm watching, he sinks his fangs into the boy's throat and drinks with a lustful pleasure I can feel throbbing in my groin. The glorious violence of it all, it makes me hard, makes me hungry, and possesses me to move.

A soldier stands so near yet doesn't sense my presence with his back to me and watching as his comrades battle on. I slink up behind him, smelling the warm heart pumping within… the sweet pulp of flesh that waits. A snap under my shoe catches me off guard and the man turns, firing as he pivots. My body rattles as I'm struck in diagonal formation from abdomen to chest. Pain seizes my entire frame and I am immobilized by the shock of bullets burrowing through my flesh, burning beneath my skin. Creeping numbness takes my legs and I lose my balance, stumbling backwards. The soldier charges after me with his stake bayoneted rifle. I can't move. Just before the pointed wood reaches me, the stake is splintered into bits by a crushing blow. I see Ripper snarling as he clasps the attacker by the throat and lifts him from the floor, choking him until he gives into unconsciousness.

"Take him into the shadows and feed, Ethan. You'll need to rebuild your strength." It's Rupert's voice coming from the demon and though I am stunned and sickly, I can register his words and feel somehow grounded by them. Concern for his welfare is foremost in my mind as I see countless wounds seeping ruby syrup along his torso and legs. He's just as wounded as me yet not stricken ill as I am.

"You're injured." I gesture with a shaky hand.

"I'm fine. Do as I say, Ethan. Stay clear." His eyes return to green for only an instant, as if to gently urge me to follow his orders, then he transforms, turns and charges back into the melee.

I kneel down, grip the unconscious soldier's vest and drag him clumsily into deeper shadows. I listen to the fighting as dizziness overtakes me and I settle against the rooftop ledge for support. The young man at my feet looks to be in a peaceful rest. I almost envy him.

"I'm not so good at this." I gurgle and cough. The blood dribbles from out my mouth and I force a sigh. "That much is obvious. Still… doing better than you, friend."

The soldier doesn't answer, lying helpless and now in my arms. More gunfire and desperate screams drown out the fevered hum of my mind.

"You're supposed to be food, boy. So why can't I eat?"

I seek out strength in the night sky and am welcomed by speckles of moisture. It is the blood of our enemies staining the scene as the army of vampire's tears into the humans, delighting in the gore of conquest. From over the music of madness, I hear Rupert's call, "Leave no one alive."

My gaze falls to the sleeping soldier cradled in my arms.

"Sorry, mate. You heard the man."

The flesh of my brow bends as my sight enhances. The razor edges of my fangs prick along my lips as I rip the fabric from my victim's neck, willing myself to taste him. Though I crave what lies beneath his pinkish skin, I can't bring myself to dig for it.

I glance up to see the demon Jacobs staring at me, head tilting slightly as if a curious puppy watching on. Then Ripper's face appears out from a heap of bodies, blocking Jacobs from my view. His chiseled face is soaked with gore. Splattered drops of blood define the folds of his forehead as he forces deep breaths, calming his fury. With every pant, his fangs are revealed and with them, I am inspired to violence. My elongated teeth puncture and bury deeply in the soft tissue of the soldier's throat. He awakens, struggling and panicked. I don't know what to do so I attempt to consol him, bracing him firmly against me with arms pinned at his sides as I try to keep myself buried within his flesh. The wound tears with his thrashing. The tang of his hot blood begins to flow freely within my mouth and down my throat. Finally, mercifully, the instinct of ages takes over. My hands grip solidly on his head and I am drinking, gulping, praying.

Rupert smiles as his army celebrates their victory behind him. But it's not the triumph he's proud of and I realize that as his eyes remain on me, even as they return to his gentle green.

 **The Hurt:**

Surgical strike team. Sounds damn cool, don't it? Well, it's not. Not the way we do it. We charge up a light grenade and toss it into a room jam packed full of sleeping vampires. They're like sardines and smell just as bad. A second later, they evaporate before they even have a chance to say their own last rites. Can't help but feel a little cheapened by it all. I sigh and turn to Buffy.

"Thought we weren't playing the maid brigade here."

"Guess the Council underestimated the numbers a little." She shakes her head. "This is pretty hairy."

"And getting hairier by the minute. At this rate, we'll need sheep sheers and a heavy-duty shopvac." I turn around to see Willow fascinated by something over in the corner of the room.

"How you doin' Will?" Buffy asks, noticing the dire look on her face.

Willow doesn't answer, just stares at a pile of junk in the corner of the room and I wonder what's got her so wigged, besides the obvious witnessing the obliteration of former humans by synthetic sunlight a second before. "Will? You okay?"

"I think he was here," she says softly and I feel my heart shudder.

"What?" Buffy moves in to inspect what Willow 's found.

"I think he's been here. Maybe not recently but this…" she kneels and dusts off a book then carefully takes it up into her arms.

"It's just a book, Will. There's a lot of them here. It's a bookstore." Buffy tries to hide her concern but we are all worried.

"Not this type of book, Buffy." Willow wipes away the ash and points to markings embossed in the leather binding. "This is a third edition of Merchintires Chaos Compendium. It's considered the definitive reference in Chaos magicks and their usage."

"So a sorcerer's version of Playboy for the mystically inclined?" I oversimplify. It's what I do.

"Yes, but this is specifically for Chaos magicks," Willow clarifies.

"So porn for a pervy sorcerer for hire like Ethan Rayne," Buffy grumbles.

"Yeah, it would be, only I don't get a big Ethany vibe here." She glances with embarrassment between us. "Not that I know his vibe or anything…"

"What kind of vibe are you getting?" I ask, regretting it as soon as I did when her large eyes meet mine, not wanting to say. "Never mind."

Buffy's attention is drawn to her hip and she pulls back her leather jacket and with a push of a button, reads the message displayed on her pocketsize PDA.

"Council special forces and Initiative ops teams has engaged the enemy," she alerts us.

"I can't believe they'd try to attack at night," I shake my head, discouraged.

"Oh," Buffy gasps, her face losing all color.

"What is it?" Willow asks nervously.

"We've lost two drop teams."

"Drop teams?" I ask.

"That's more than forty men," Buffy whispers more than speaks the words. "We've gotta get to them and fast."

"All I need is a location," Willow says and I know I'm in for the old mystical transporter beam whammie. At least I brought a heaping helping of aspirin.

 **The Meeting:**

In a flash of white, we go from street side south Los Angeles to four miles north and twenty stories up. I hate rollercoaster's and this wild ride is far worse than any one of those wobbly old wooden ones you see at run down amusement parks. My head swims with dizziness and my stomach grumbles it's disapproval with our choice of transportation. It reminds of the last time she did this, only what took her minutes to do and a lot of talking then, now only takes a phrase and a blinding light and we're there. She's damn good.

"Oh my Goddess!" I hear Willow gasp and I turn around to see absolute devastation.

"We're too late," Xander chokes, barely managing to hold down the cheesy-poofs and soda he'd finished five minutes ago.

Bodies litter the rooftop, coated with the shimmering black of blood lit by moonlight. Steam rises from the freshly slaughtered soldiers creating an eerie mist in the chill of the air. I quickly scan the scene for…

"You won't find any," a familiar voice comes from behind and we turn to see a figure stepping out of the shadows.

"Find what?" I ask casually and hear Xander chamber a round as the barrel of his pistol creeps steadily forward into my peripheral vision. I raise my hand to prevent him from firing. I want to test the waters.

"Survivors," Rayne responds easily. "He saw to that."

"You mean you saw to that." I challenge. He smiles shyly, looking younger than I ever remember seeing him before. "More of your handy work, like you did with the Initiative?"

"Actually, this was his… his gig, if you will." He chuckles and looks up with the blackest eyes. "Consider me a groupie along for the ride."

"Where is he?" Xander barks impatiently.

"Looking for me?"

I hear Xander's gun fire a shot before I even have a chance to react. When I finally do manage to pivot, I find myself face to face with him… the beast. Xander's pistol fires again and again, each time striking at the vampire's heart only not reaching him. Xander empties his clip and races to reload as Rayne suddenly appears beside him, smiling.

"He's more aggressive than I remember, Ripper. Your influence, I presume?" Rayne raises a brow, amused.

"Hello Buffy," the demon says in that refined, mild voice. That gentle tone I hear when I train with him in my dreams, still teaching me how to survive the monsters that took him away from me. I open my mouth to respond only to hear silence. There's another thunder of bullets, each colliding with an unseen barrier to fall uselessly to the ground.

"You're only wasting ammo, not to mention our time," Rayne says. "Then again, we have that in abundance now, don't we?"

"He's cast a sanctuary spell, Buffy." Willow explains.

"Disarmament spell actually. What *have* you been teaching her, Ripper? For shame." Rayne mocks and I silently celebrate the hate I feel for him at that moment. It will make this so much easier.

"That's enough, Ethan," he says calmly, his eyes never leaving me so I never leave him. "You're looking well, Buffy."

"Life has its benefits."

"As does death."

"I'm going to kill you."

He smiles and my heart weeps. He glances quickly to Willow and Xander then back to me, brow creased with disapproval.

"Take them home, Buffy. I won't warn you again."

"You call this a warning?" I ask, motioning to the carcasses surrounding us.

"A promise." A tenderly spoken threat. He retrieves something from his jeans pocket. "But this by any other name…"

He reaches out and takes my hand in his. I should recoil but I don't. I can't. He places something within my palm and curls my fingers around it, sandwiching my hand between his chilled ones. He stares down at me, eyes unshielded by glasses, and smiles so sweetly. There is innocence there and I can't help but hate fate, the Powers, God, the Devil or whoever is responsible for taking him from me but leaving that gentle stare and smile. Every look is punishment, as much an attack as any punch or kick.

"Be seeing you." Ethan nods graciously and the beast pulls away to join him on the ledge of the building.

He pauses long enough to glance back over his shoulder, gesturing to the rooftop with his eyes. "The spell will last the night. You have until da… till daybreak to get them out."

And with a step, they're gone. Xander rushes to the ledge and peers over.

"Their gone!" He shouts, holstering his weapon.

"Ethan's better than I remember," Willow says nervously. "Sanctuary spells, teleportation, evidence of living fire at the Initiative facility. He stronger now that he's dipping into the darker stuff."

"What did he give you, Buffy?" Xander hurries back over, breathing quickened and voice anxious. Does it ever get any easier?

I unwind my fingers to see military dog tags and share an uncertain look with them both. Then I flip the rubber edged metal tabs over to read the imprint.

"FINN _  
RILEY W  
534-83-1561  
O POS  
PROTESTANT" _

We find him hanging naked on the backside of the stairway entry. His arms are outstretched, stakes pinning him to the wind worn siding. One through each wrist, one through his crossed bare feet, one piercing his heart. He is gutted, throat ripped to shreds, eyes wide, frozen in time.

I stumble away, fall to my knees and throw up nothing but air. Dry heaving to try and rid myself of the vile vision. Not of Riley dead and on display… of the beast staring and smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Council:**

"The strike team failed sir," he reports quietly. "No response, all signals lost but that of Summers and her team."

"So the Slayer is still alive?" I ask with little doubt.

"It seems so, Sir. But she hasn't checked in yet. We were considering doing a scan…"

"Nothing to be alarmed about, Captain. This one tends to ignore conventions." I shuffle through the stack of papers on my desk, dreading reading the monotonous details presented there. "How did the new armaments do, then?"

"The data we received shows initial success, Sir. The vitals of those armed with the SR pistols registered longer than those without. We haven't any statistics on the numbers of hostiles we face there but in all, the pistols seem a viable option."

"Very good. Arm another two teams and prepare them for tomorrow."

"So soon, Sir?"

"Indeed. Striking in succession will catch him off guard."

"With all due respect, Sir, he knows our every move. He's outwitted us in every assault we've attempted thus far. At this rate, we'll exhaust our resources in weeks."

"Unlikely, we've been granted full cooperation with the remaining Initiative forces as well as CIA paranormal divisions."

"Their dying in droves out there, Sir."

I grow tired of justifying myself. "Once Summers removes his presence…"

"What makes you so confident she can, Sir?"

That is what this is about. They don't think the girl can do it.

"I have every faith that Summers will rid us of this nuisance."

"But Sir, he was her…"

"He is a monster, like any other and she will get the job done. You have your orders, see to them. That is all, Captain."

"Yes Sir." He salutes and I dismiss him with an irritated gesture. I've better things to do than waste time arguing with grunts.

 **The Heart:**

We gather the dead, placing them temporarily at rest on the borders of the rooftop. It's the best we could do for them for now. Buffy checks for the possibility of anyone being turned and rising again. No signs of it. Just murder and mayhem, same old song.

"He's trapped us here. Not the strongest of spells. I'll have it broken by morning," I tell them, feeling the hum of magicks tingle along my skin. "Just like he said." That's what bothers me.

"I don't get it. Why would he do this?" Xander asks, ruffling his fingers through his hair then straightening his eye patch. "Not the slaughter thing. I get that vampire equals kill equation. I mean, with the casting? So he prevents us from attacking but then why leave the spell active?"

"He doesn't want us involved?" I explain, trying to relate to the fiend possessing my dead friend's skin. "I wouldn't either. He wants us to go home."

"He wants *you* to go home," Buffy corrects and I replay the conversation in my mind. She could be right. That worries me even more.

"It's a lesson," she continues, settling to the ground, sitting cross-legged. "He wants to make us stay here, to surround us with blood and death. Surrounded by the blood he spilled, the death he caused." Buffy says quietly. It makes more sense than I want to believe.

"He went to all this trouble laying out the welcoming mat, gotta pay him back for it." Xander tries to make like he's not bothered but I can see his gaze shift to the heaps of flesh lying beyond the lanterns light.

"It'll be safe here. With all the stench of blood and vampires…" Buffy pauses, seeing the disgust in our eyes, "…and the spell. We'll stay here until morning when the chopper comes."

"Chopper?" Xander asks. "I sure hope you mean motorcycles to get around in."

"You guys are outta here," Buffy says plainly.

"So not going to happen," Xander objects.

"You heard him. He's giving you a get-out-of-hell-free card and you're taking it. Both of you."

"You can't do this alone," I insist.

"Watch me." She retrieves her cell phone and begins to radio in to base. I feel the magicks stirring with my anger and with a hissing phrase, the cell phone melts from her hand to the floor. "Hey, that was new!"

"We're in this thing together. Get it through that stubborn Slayer-shaped skull. You aren't getting rid of us," I insist. "Not after nine years of this. Not ever!"

"I second that. Motion passed. Onto the next item on our agenda, tasty vittles courtesy of your neighborhood boy scout." Xander throws himself into the task of cooking us up some food with the portable burner he's brought along. "Always come prepared."

"How can you eat?" I ask, mystified by his iron stomach.

"I do two things well, joke and eat." He pauses, considers then shrugs. "Okay, one thing."

We smile and go about making camp amongst the dead. Strange how quickly we get used to it. I watch as Xander fires up his stove. He takes out a small metal pot and pours in some bottled water and dehydrated soup. He won't eat alone. I know Buffy will join him. She's always hungry after Slaying and she's had a full day of it, more than we anticipated.

I check again on the spell and feel the chaotic energies there. This isn't floating rose-based-missle strong, this is dark and dangerous. It's wrong. He shouldn't have such power, or any power. It goes against the natural way of things. But still, it's there and I need to know why. There's no telling what he's capable of. I struggle with telling Buffy or not. Though she should know to be prepared, I can't help but think what good would it do her to know? Magic has always been her weak point as much as it's been my crutch. I need to feel my way through this. And when I reach out to feel his energies, there's something strange in Ethan, in his magicks. I'll just have to keep on my toes and be ready for anything. I have power too… more than he has, I think. It's probably why I'm not wanted here, why Ethan's help was enlisted in the first place.

I take a seat, finishing the triangle we form around the small burner. The breeze kicks up, sending a chill along my neck and I unfold my sweater collar to keep warm. Xander offers Buffy a cupful of his soup, his eye searching her face with a question he wants to ask but is hesitant to.

"What was the last thing he said to you?" He finally asks her and I'm surprised he did. We don't talk about it… ever.

I look anxiously at him, trying to delicately stop him. "Xander, I don't think…"

"Naw, it's okay." Buffy shrugs, twirling a stake in one hand as she gratefully accepts the cup of soup with the other. "Thanks."

"I mean not now… before, you know… before." He clarifies, returning to his spot. "What was the last thing you guys talked about?"

Buffy thinks a moment, swallows then speaks quietly. "Dawn." The answer makes him shrink a little.

Now I feel bad for Xander and decide this isn't helping. "Buffy, maybe it's better if we don't…"

" Willow , it's okay. Really," she reassures me. "We argued about Dawn's wanting to go to college in California . We were always arguing."

"Yeah, same here. We argued about the coven's decision to relocate closer to Council headquarters." I shake my head, regretfully remembering the heated debate.

"We argued over what pizza," Xander says. "I wanted stuffed crust. He insisted on thin… it was ugly. He was a biter."

I can't help the sad giggle that passes my lips at the image of Xander and him quarrelling over dinner. Buffy seems wounded by my reaction at first then gives in and joins me. Soon, all three of us are laughing about it, even though some part of us is crying inside. I feel it.

 **The Restless:**

I separate from the others. Wandering and wondering as I listen to the echoes of celebration in the main hall fade with every step I gain. I don't feel like celebrating and it troubles me. Now, more than ever, I feel apart from the brood, seeking solitude in the far ends of the mall. There is a curious sound of water splashing as I approach the public bathrooms at the end of a long corridor. I quietly make my way toward the sound and peek around the corner to see Rupert standing at one in a long row of sinks, lit only by the flickering light of a decorative oil lantern. The shadows dance along his naked chest, the dampness glistening with the motion of the trapped flame. I slip back into the shadows, not wanting to disturb the intriguing scene playing out before me. He stops with the slightest of smiles.

"What did you need, Ethan?" He asks and I keep myself from chuckling.

"A few things come to mind." I step forward, leaning against the doorway. "What was it, then? Smell me coming, see me… or was it something else?" Why do I always feel as if the lessons never end?

"Something else," he says softly and splashes another palm full of water to his face. I watch, mesmerized by the drops cascading along his skin.

"Trying to clean those hard to reach places?" I'm trying to act casual but seeing him like this, exposed… I'm a bloody fool.

"Cleanliness is next to…"

"Someplace far and away from here," I conclude. "Still, no one wears blood quite like you, Ripper."

It was entirely true. No color complimented Ripper more than red. Be it a deeper burgundy of blood from the gut, the ruby glaze of the head, the scarlet flood of the limbs, or the cherry stain of entrails. Even now, he wore all shades, every one of them beautifully accentuating his body, his face, his lips.

"Why aren't you with the others, Ethan?"

"Wanted to be alone."

"Then you're failing miserably." He smiles, glancing sideways to me as droplets of water trace a path along his nose to fall to the sink below.

I move further inside, sitting against the edge of the neighboring sink and cross my arms. "Want to talk about it?"

"About what?" He asks, continuing with his bathing.

"The childr..."

"No." He cuts me off and I know better than to press the issue. He wipes the drops from his face then rinses off his hands, clearly avoiding my gaze. He's nearly clean of the evidence of his rampage but I see a speck of red behind his ear and unthinkingly reach out to wipe it away. He catches my hand, holding it firmly with eyes locked on me. There it is again, a glimpse of the beast crossing his shaded features.

"You missed some." I smile easily though my body is pulsing with excitement. Christ he smells delicious.

To my surprise, his stern look suddenly softens and he releases my hand. I slowly brush my thumb along his neck watching as his eyes go heavy and close for a moment. I wonder if it's the comfort of my touch or if he's that tired after the evening's events. I wipe the smear of red away to reveal a pair of perfectly rounded scars. Instinctively, I know their origin, feeling a tingle in my neck and throb in my cock. Mine's a rough, jagged and crudely fashioned mark. It is a blatant indication of a hurried turning, more purpose than pleasure. In stark contrast, Rupert's is beautifully produced, given with subtle precision and slow tenderness. It looks smaller than mine feels, perhaps a lady. I wonder who.

"Why do you want to be alone?" He asks, interrupting my train of thought. I pull my hand away, licking the blood clean from my fingertip. It sparks a rush of hunger and arousal that I work to deaden.

"I don't know, exactly." I shrug helplessly. "Quite possibly for the same reasons you do."

He combs his damp fingers through the curling tuffs atop his head, slicking them down. I don't like it and feel the urge to mess him up. But I restrain. It's obvious something is bothering him.

"I should put in an appearance before they come looking." It's an unwanted obligation.

"Let them stew, Rupert." I inch closer and to my amazement, he draws in as well.

"I have work to do," he mutters softly but I don't believe a word of it.

"As do I."

He's just out of reach, calling, waiting, and all I have to do is lean in and…

"Sir, the men have requested your presence."

Rupert pulls back and I have to stop myself from ashing the soldier bastard with a curse.

"Thank you, Jacobs. I'll be along in a moment." Rupert stares at me as he speaks and I see the burden carried in his apologizing eyes. Jacobs turns and marches off.

"Mustn't keep ‘m waiting, Ripper." I leave it for him to determine who I'm referring to. He's a bright boy. He knows.

 **The Morning:**

Morning after sunlight doesn't make the horror scene any better, only juicier. And now the stench of death is growing musky. We need to get out of here. I check on Willow and Buffy and am shocked to see they are still asleep. I give Willow a quick shake and she slowly sits up, groggily rubbing her eyes.

"I can't believe I managed to sleep," she mumbles quietly as she works to fix the messed up ponytail in the back of her hair.

"You were sleeping like the dead." I smile. "Okay, not so funny."

"Must be the magicks. It's like white noise, lulling me into sleep." She carefully gets to her feet and pauses. Her eyes go wide. "Speaking of which, it's gone."

"The magicks?"

"Yeah." Willow looks around as if she can see the invisible streams that once surrounded us. "After the teleportation yesterday, I was pretty tired. Figured I'd be waking up to some serious casting. But it's just gone."

"Then let's get started." Buffy marches between us and determinedly towards the stairway exiting the rooftop. Willow and I look at each other then with a mutual shrug, we follow along after her.

"I could teleport us back to ground level, Buffy," Willow offers, uncertainly.

"Save your strength. If we find them, you may be going twelve rounds with Ethan. And something tells me he'll be no-holds-barred."

With a tug, the door swings open and I get my first look at the never-ending stairs below us.

"I have energy bars if anyone likes gnawing on tanned leather that tastes like paper pulp," I offer as we head down the first of many flights of stairs. We're obviously going to need all the energy we can get.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Spell:**

"Today." I set down the small heap of old manuscripts and texts next to Ethan on his currently favored bed.

"That would be the day sandwiched between yesterday and tomorrow, Rupert? Well done."

Ethan smiles and rolls onto his back, flaunting his bare form for all to see. Unfortunately, it takes me a moment too long to lift my wandering eyes, a moment he'll be sure to use against me. Jacobs marches in to stand at my side, working to remain indifferent to my relentlessly exhibitionistic associate. I notice the faintest of smiles cross the young man's lips as Ethan salutes.

"What about today?" Ethan finally asks.

"The spell, I need it today."

"Just like that?" Ethan asks with a perturbed chuckle, propping up on his elbow. "I've never performed a spell of this magnitude and you want me to throw it all together in a single day?"

"By noon , if you will."

"Would you like a side order of apocalypse to go along with it?" Ethan sighs as he sits upright. "For fucks sake, Rupert, this isn't child's play."

"The Council will send more troops. I can only hope they won't arrive before midday . And now that Buffy is here, things have become a great deal more complicated."

"I had a first row seat at that slaughter of yours, if you'll remember. Don't know why you're worried. It was a successful massacre of biblical proportions." I could see a hint of revulsion there, hidden beneath his cool exterior. "And as for your former prodigy's arrival, correct me if I'm wrong but you gave me the impression you were prepared for that eventuality. You knew they would send her. What makes this spell so critical to be completed now?"

"Part of that preparation involves blotting out the sun to gain the advantage." He sounds nervous though he's trying to look unconcerned. "You can do this, Ethan. I know you can."

"Not fishing for a rousing pep talk coach. I would simply prefer some time to look over the details."

"I've studied the incantations, translated the proper verses and acquired the requisite ingredients. The casting location is secured and the necessary precautions are in place."

"Precautions?" Ethan lifts a suspicious brow. "Not liking the sound of that. What sort of precautions."

"In order for the spell to work, it must be cast in direct line to the sun."

Ethan's laughter interrupts me from continuing.

"In full sunlight? Enlighten me as to how you intend to avoid the inevitability of my certain dusting with the first rays of sunlight that touch me?" Ethan shakes his head. "You of all people know that vampires tend to dislike direct sunlight, Rupert. On account of that whole bursting into flames allergy they suffer from."

"That is what this is for," I say with a confident smirk and display a ring from out of my pocket. "Do you know what this is?"

"I'm touched, Rupert, I really am. But we've only just reunited, I think it's a rather impulsive idea to make any sort of nuptial commitment…."

"The Gem of Amarra," I interrupt him in as serious a tone as I can manage, watching the smirk wash off of Jacobs face with the revelation.

"Never heard of it. Bit tawdry, really. You could have at least considered something a bit more tasteful, Rupert, like Tiffany's or perhaps Cartier."

"It renders the vampire who wears it invincible, Ethan. Safe from stakes and holy water, safe from beheading, and safe from sunlight." I give the ring a gentle turn, capturing his imagination with its glimmer and satisfying his assumption with the conclusion, "In essence, it makes it's bearer a god."

Ethan stares at the ring, engrossed by it. "Handy little bauble to come by. And by some miracle you just happened to scrounge that up?"

"It was unearthed in Sunnydale and delivered here, to LA. It was mistakenly thought to be lost."

He studies my face for a moment, skeptically. "You know it works?"

"I've seen it work. Tried and true, tested assurance that you'll remain unharmed during the spell." He is captivated and reaches out to take the ring. I pull back, wrapping it securely within my fist. "But I'll hold on to this until you're ready. Can't take the risk of having it fall into untrustworthy hands. After all, you could see the temptation that lies with such an artifact."

"Indeed." He thinks I don't trust him. Perhaps that's for the best for now. He stands and hurriedly slips into his black jeans, showing more than a little aggravation with doing it. "Well then, looks like I have a spell to learn. I'll just gather up the class notes and hurry along to the local study hall." He takes up the texts and manuscript and begins to walk away, still barefoot and half dressed.

"I'll be waiting, Ethan. When you're ready, we'll head out." He doesn't bother to stop. Once he disappears around a corner, I turn my attentions to Jacobs.

"Are you sure the charm will work? Can it protect him from the sun?" Jacobs asks me.

I glance down at the ring, smile and toss it to the young soldier. He catches it as if it were a rare treasure. "What do you think?"

Jacobs examines the ring carefully until he notices what I'd hoped he'd see. " ‘To Donald, with my undying love.' " He's surprised. "This is nothing but a wedding band, Sir."

"That it is."

"Then you're sending him to his death, Sir?" I can see the disappointment in Jacob's eyes. Has he taken to Ethan so quickly? I can understand entirely, he had me in five minutes.

"We'll see," I say softly. "File the engraving down until smooth and return it to me."

Jacobs salutes then after a moment of hesitation, agrees. "Yes, Sir." He turns and wanders off.

I move toward the bed, carefully lowering upon in the sunken spot Ethan lay a moment before. I can still smell him here, that intoxicating musk of magicks entangled with sex. I nuzzle into the pillow, forcing a deep breath to take his scent in further.

"We'll see."

 **The Sun:**

I look at the grassy knoll and have to stifle a laugh. It's blocks away from cover of any kind so not only will I be a target for the sunlight but also for any stalking Slayers about. Can this plan be any more disastrous? Still, I look at Rupert, his green eyes paying me the honor of an occasional glimpse as he orders his men to remain underground.

"All the things you require are in the bag." Rupert nods to Jacobs who sets a duffle bag at my feet.

"Good luck, Sir." The soldier sounds genuine. I'm doomed yet manage a gracious smile.

"Luck will have nothing to do with it." I turn my attention back to Rupert. "If this works, I'll be collecting on the debt you owe me tonight."

"You mean * when* this works," he corrects me with such confidence, it's infectious. He takes out the ring and I hold out my palm, waiting for him to hand it over. Instead, he gently takes hold of my hand and slips the ring on my finger, smiling all the while.

"I intend to get that back," he says, unwilling to release me yet. I see appreciation in his stare as I feel a tender squeeze of his hand to mine.

"I'll do my best."

I step up to the shadows edge and hear voices whispering nervously behind me, like a gaggle of geese gossiping. I glance over my shoulder at Rupert who's deathly serious. Jacobs remains at his side, hands fidgeting with his belt, his pockets, his shirt, anything to distract him from the situation. They are a vision of contradiction.

I take up my bag of supplies and toss it over my shoulder. Completely born of habit, I take in a deep and unnecessary breath and slowly raise my ring ornamented hand out into the light. I wait. All discussions hush to silence as the small army of vampires witnesses nothing. It's fascinating and the suspicious mutterings begin again. A minute passes and there is no sign of even the slightest burning. I decide to go all or nothing and march several paces out into broad daylight. The mutterings stop again as I stop, lifting my face to the bright orb blinding me from the sky. It's beautiful, embracing me with warmth I've missed in the short time since my death.

I can't believe the bloody ring is working. I look back to see Jacobs' mouth fallen open, astounded beyond words. Rupert's confident smile has returned only broader as he ruffles his fingers through the stunned youth's hair and gives him a playful nudge.

There is work to do and I focus my attentions on doing it, marching off toward the small, lone patch of greenery on the concrete block. I scout out the flattest area I can drop the bag to the grass.

 **The Sighting:**

"What's that?" Buffy wipes at the taped up and soiled glass and motions down to the street. I squint to try and see what she's pointing to.

"I don't see anything." I respond.

"There, over in that tiny park." She directs me again and I search some more.

"It's moving. Maybe a survivor?" Xander suggests.

"Could be a diurnal demon of some kind," I suggest. "This place is a refuge for all kinds of demons now."

"Let's go find out."

Buffy hurries off down the stairway before I have a chance to object.

 **The Circle:**

"Be ready," I order my men but my gaze never leaves Ethan. "Keep a sharp look out."

Ethan's set up the circle to the manuscripts specifications, positioned the talismans at the eight points along it, connecting them with lines of sand and herbs. He retrieves the pivotal ingredient, holding up the large jar to get a better look. I watch his reaction as he confirms his suspicions with a check of the manuscript. He pales, brow creasing with distaste as he looks back to me. My eyes narrow for an instant, trying to communicate without communication that now is not the time for squeamishness.

"What's in that, Sir?" Jacobs asks.

"Hearts…" I say softly, "…from eight newborns."

Jacobs watches Ethan return to his task, setting the jar aside but finding it difficult to keep from looking at it. "He seems bothered by it, Sir."

"That he does," I say coolly, "Probably disappointed he wasn't in on the collection." I smirk, knowing better.

"Does he know what he's doing, Sir?"

"He's a master of his craft, Jacobs, as well versed in magicks as I am with dead languages. He will get the job done."

From off in the distance, I hear the faint thunder of helicopters growing louder and Ethan glances up to search the sky. He looks nervously to me and I nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Your orders, Sir?" Jacobs urges, eager to do something, anything. I know the feeling. But all is in Ethan's hands now.

"Leave five men, take the rest to the rooftop they target as their descending point. Trap them to the sky until the spell has been cast."

"And if they choose to land on solid ground?"

"Tell the men to blanket themselves and charge. Sunlight or no, they must not reach Ethan. Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir." He hurries off to do my biding but I couldn't care less. My thoughts, my hopes are with my sorcerer. Ethan is our unlikely savior.

 **The Cross:**

I can't keep from looking. The red syrup is both repulsive and inviting as it glistens brilliantly in the sunlight. I understand the severity of such a spell, the price paid to defile nature. But the flesh of innocence so abundant and tidily captured in a glass coffin… processed lives extinguished before given a chance to live.

The roar of approaching helicopters reminds me of my mission. I look to Rupert. He's urging me onward and I obey like one of his minions. But there's more to my obedience. He smirks and there it is… my damned inspiration.

I reach inside and feel metal at my fingertips. When I pull it out, I flinch with the realization I'm holding a cross in my hands, a perfectly ornamented golden crucifix and it has no affect on me. My gaze falls to the plain band of silver on my finger. Rupert is right, this is a prize unequalled in his world. My world.

 **The God:**

I hear the sound way before it registers in my mind what it is.

"The Council is coming, Buffy," I hear Xander call to me as I stumble to a halt and glance back at him.

"Didn't expect backup…" I say with more relief than I wanted to show as my eyes look to the sky, "…at least not so soon."

"Guess the evil dead chorus line last night did the trick," Xander puffs breathlessly. "The big wigs are on the rampage."

"That's not Council. It's the Initiative." I can see the military decals from here.

"It's… it's Ethan," Willow gasps, eyes closed but facing the direction of the mysterious figure.

"In the helicopter?" Xander asks, confused until he notices Willow is facing the other way.

"No, over there… that person." She gestures.

"What?" I turn back around to see the distant figure moving. "But it's broad daylight."

"I know." Her eyes narrow to a squint, trying to get a better look.

"I thought you said the he was turned."

"I did. But it's him. I can feel it. But there is something…"

"Will, extreme wiggins here." Xander admits. "Vampires in daylight? What the hell is going on?"

"I… I don't know."

That makes the two of us.

"I don't care." I take off running full on towards Ethan. I intend to find out.

 **The Dark:**

As the seal spins off from the jar, a current of air wafts the perfumed scent of blood to my eager nostrils. I take it in and it drives me on, the beastly instincts besting my disgust for the miserable contents within. I begin to chant as I scoop out a palm full of the ruby molasses, capturing a single heart within the soup. Carefully, I position it over the first talisman and with the incantation, crush the slippery flesh, releasing a spurt of blood to speckle the soil below. I can feel my magicks surge as the drops stain the hair bound herbs, wood and oils. I repeat the process again, painting the grass, the dirt, and myself in doing it. By the fourth heart, I'm practically drooling with the feel of the tender meat between my fingers. I'm fairly certain if a child stood within my reach, I would gladly rip its still beating heart free for a single taste. What a merciless beast I am, from miserable to malevolent in seconds flat.

The sixth heart ruptures and pours to the soil and I feel the raining warmth suddenly grow cool. I look up to see the sky beginning to turn, black storm clouds billowing out from nothing and collapsing in like a mouth closing to swallow the sun whole.

It's working.

 **The Magicks:**

My chest thumps a deafening beat that rivals the pounding in my mind. My nerves crackle with erratic static, charged with energies I never called upon. He's casting another spell… a very powerful…

My Goddess… he can't be!

My heart lurches with the sight of the graying sky closing in on the sun. He is… Ethan is doing this. I feel the frenzied energies pulsing out from him as light does from the sun he's trying to extinguish above us.

"We have to stop him!" I scream, already searching my mind for a spell, any spell to interrupt what he's doing. Buffy is too far ahead of me, already blocks beyond Xander and I as we all rush as fast as we can towards the sorcerer.

Gunfire erupts, echoing through the slowly shadowing, twisted framework of cement and metal ruins surrounding us. Xander slows to catch a glimpse of the battle waging stories above and behind us. I continue forward, remaining focused on Ethan. If I cast even the slightest of…

 **The Nuisance:**

The final heart weeps its blood to the earth, soaking the talisman through. I take pleasure in licking my fingers clean of the blood and meat in-between the closing stanzas. It tastes stale but with flavor enough to crook my brow and elongate my fangs. I curse the accidental prick of the double daggers to my bottom lip as I complete the casting. I'll never get used to that.

All that's left for me to do now is…

What's this? I sense power… familiar and deliciously potent.

"Ripper, your pet witch comes to play." I smile as I turn to see the rascally trio running towards me. When I glance over at Ripper, he's already spotted them as well. "So much for minding your elders."

I just manage spitting out the terrain enchantment as a bolt of searing light erupts from the distant witch and heads right for me. As it comes, the soil boils beyond the circle and rises up in time to absorb most of the strike. I don't wait for a follow-up attack, hurrying to position myself dead center of the sigil. I glance through the hail of dirt returning to the earth, hoping for one last look at Rupert before the conclusion. He's tensed at the very edge of the shadows, ready to charge, eyes wide and severely beautiful.

I smile, I wink, I unsheathe the blessed blade from its leather casing and slice it swiftly across my wrist. The pain makes me wince but I watch vigilantly as the skin separates and my blood pools from the wound. The first drops drizzle down to mark the center of the circle and with them, the spell is cast. My body seizes as it rises from the ground. My energies are torn from me and thrown skyward. I howl with the agony of the separation, watching my magicks collide with the shattered sky.

And as the sun goes dark… I follow…

 **The Rescue:**

The sun begins to shrivel and I move, racing out as the edge of light narrows to an infinite point. Ethan's face is bent with pain as he suspends yards from the ground, arms stretched out as if lashed to the sky by the light discharging from each of his hands and chest. I can hear his anguished cry over the bluster of gunfire nearby and the heavy boots marching out alongside me. The light vaporizes and he succumbs to gravity, falling lifeless to the burnt earth below.

When I come upon the scene, I find the Slayer hovering over my unconscious Ethan, jagged stake set firm in her hand and without a thought, I attack. More ferocity than finesse; now is not the time for strategy or statement. Ethan will not fade away this glorious day.

Unaware, she pivots just as I dive, leaving herself wide open as I plant a solid tackle to her midsection, taking us both down with the strike. I tumble off and leap to my feet, charging again as glistens of mystical energies reflect from her hardened features. Prepared now, she dodges skillfully and surprises me with a swift kick to the back of my neck that sends me to the ashen circle.

I turn over to glimpse her driving down with the wooden stake, not even attempting a clear shot, just praying it somehow finds its mark. I capitalize on her reckless action, grasping at her stake and pulling her hand in tight, continuing to roll. I tug, leveraging her under me. She hesitates to escape and I pin her, straddling her upper body with my weight. She watches wide-eyed and gasping as I slowly wrench her wrist, turning her own stake on her. The pointed end sinks, preparing to silence her drumming heart.

I don't see the bolt of magicks but certainly feel it, striking like a blistering battering ram to my back and sending me sailing from the Slayer. I skid to an awkward halt yards from her but struggle quickly to my feet, intent on attacking again.

"Any closer, he dies," Xander warns, his modified firearm aiming to the center of Ethan's chest. I know that weapon, liquid light rounds.

"And the sun with him," I bluff. They won't know the difference. I stay hunched forward and ready to attack as a smile spreads along my lips. I scan the scene for my men. All are gone. The children have done well for themselves, a better man would be proud.

"What have you done?" the Slayer demands.

"Really, Buffy, you disappoint me. I hardly think it a mystery."

"Reverse it," Willow interrupts, hand outstretched and ready to blast me with her exhilarating energies. I offer only a patient smile.

"No."

"Then he's chimney scum," Xander threatens again, inching the pistol closer to Ethan.

"She begged for death," I say softly in a disappointed tone.

"What?" Xander asks, nipping at the obvious bait and I can't help the devil in me.

"That lovely elder Slayer of yours. Your first, wasn't she?" I ask. "Never read of a Slayer begging for death. In all my years reading account after account in the diaries, not one Slayer ever pleaded for it. Then came you and your girl and the scriptures suddenly need revision."

His hand begins to tremble as his fingers tense around the trigger. That's it… show me your other face, boy.

"Tell me, Xander, was suicide something you taught her or was she so eager to be rid of you and that botched abortion of hers?"

The pistol swivels towards me as Buffy screams out a belatedly order to the contrary. I dodge as quickly as I'm able as shots are fired. A single bullet catches my forearm, but fails to discharge its cargo as it passes, leaving a burning tunnel through my flesh. I keep moving, smelling my men returning from battle. We have the advantage now.

The Slayer charges and I am pleasantly surprised as she rips into me with punch after punch. My beautiful savage. Illumination flickers off of Buffy's body as I wrestle her to the grass. Willow 's throwing caution to the wind these days, evoking such powerful magicks with ease. Ethan would delight in her if he were able.

Xander rapidly fires, bullets blazing toward my army of vampires as they come to claim their captain. Such loyal beasts. A foot to my gut, an elbow to my cheek, a knee to my groin and I am roaring delighted at Buffy's skill. I haven't tasted her damage since… since we last trained. She is resourceful, devastating and deliciously cunning.

"More Slayer, give me more. I've earned it!" I provoke her and lunge.

Buffy hesitates to defend and I exploit it, teaching her another lesson in second guessing her opponent. My fist connects solid to her chin and she stumbles backward as I shuffle forward to punctuate the pain with a leg swipe. She's caught off guard and falls back with a thump, the air forced from her lungs with the descent. I follow through with a heel hammering down toward her face. Good girl, she blocks and with a spinning leg, manages to propel herself upright as I clumsily fumble forward.

"You've learned patience, Buffy."

There she stands, all proud and ruthless and efficient. My well fashioned weapon ready to strike out against evil. Well, here I am.

"You'll not touch him," I warn sternly as take up position defending my fallen sorcerer.

"I wasn't planning on touching him, just introducing him to Mr. Pointy, here."

"I thought I told you to take them home, Buffy. Then again, you failed to listen to me in life, why break with precedent now, eh?"

More of my men come out from nowhere and everywhere and the children are surrounded.

"Bring it back!" Willow orders me.

"What's that, love?" I ask, knowing full well what she means.

"The sun! Undo it."

"It's not for me to release."

"Then wake up sleeping beauty and get it done," Buffy demands. "I'm not going to ask twice."

"Take a good, hard look at the odds. I trained you to win, Buffy. You can't possibly stand victorious in the end. You haven't any army of Slayers at your disposal here, Chosen One. This is certain suicide. And regardless of Xander's curious Slayer training techniques, I don't approve of such tactics." My men move in closer, ready to attack at my command.

"I'm going to kill you so dead!" Xander spits out his venom of words. He would make a wonderful soldier.

"I'm not going anywhere," Buffy says, so easily damning them all.

"So be it." I smile. I bow graciously. I give the order. "Kill them."

With a stampede, my men charge, a wave of vampires ready to shred the children to ribbons. I turn away from them, paying them no mind as I kneel down and take Ethan up into my arms. He is motionless as I cradle him closely and begin to walk away. I hear Willow above the ruckus and have to smile as long shadows are cast along the ground and buildings with flashes of mystical light.

She's improved. "Pity magicks die with the turning…"

I look down to Ethan's slumbering face.

"…Usually."


	9. Chapter 9

**The Escape:**

"Is everyone alright?" I yell even before the stream of energies evaporates from around us. I don't get an answer and I'm already careening towards panic. "Buffy? Xander?"

"Here," she calls from behind me and to the left.

"Here," Xander says from behind and right, "…Though I don't have a clue where here is."

"Not far." I'm still trying to catch my breath. "Teleported us to the nearest building. Best I could manage. We should probably go deeper… inside to make sure we're not found."

"Why did you do that? I had him?" Buffy grumbles, marching irritably toward the closest window to peer out. I can't believe my ears.

"You had him?" Xander laughs. "In what way would that be exactly, Buff? In the kamikaze, hari-kari sense of having him? We were surrounded and about to be trampled by his cavalry of blood thirsty vampires. I didn't see any advantage on our side of the equation. Or were you using that special Slayer math of yours again?"

"It was a stall tactic." How can she be this way?

"No, it was a promise. He said so," I remind her of his words and hate myself for remembering them.

"That was just an empty threat to throw us off our game. He wants to be the one to do it… needs to be the one to do it." She goes quiet then speaks more to herself than to either of us, "…lay my arms down and let me rest at last."

She suddenly snaps out of her daze to conclude, "It's his to do, not his flunkeys."

Xander's pissed. "Coulda fooled me 'cause they were doing a mighty fine job of following Colonel Fang's last orders to kill us!"

Buffy shakes her head, annoyed. "Like you guys have any idea. I know how he thinks."

"Funny, ‘cause I saw you getting your ass handed back to you out there."

"This isn't helping!" I yell then cover my mouth and hurry to the window to make sure I wasn't heard. The vampires are slowly scattering, searching for us. "I did what I thought was best, run away and live to fight another day."

"I, for one, happen to agree with your choice, Will. And so would he if he was here. But he's not. I know it, Willow knows it and you sure as Hell know it too, Buffy. So stop thinking you're getting some special back stage pass to his mind because that murderer out there… that dead thing walking, is not him, never will be him and will be dust by the end of the week if I have anything to do with it." He marches off into thicker shadows, mumbling, "Now I'll see make sure we get to safer cover if commandant Summers doesn't mind postponing the slaughter till later."

"Xander… I…" she moves to go after him and I stop her with a gentle grip of her wrist.

"Give him a moment, just a little space. You're both too riled up to discuss this rationally."

Buffy gives me a wounded look.

"Is this your way of comforting me?"

"This is me avoiding more fighting and saying things we'll all regret when enough cruel things were said out there by that demon."

I glance back out to the thinning crowd of vampires.

"We all need to take a breath here and figure out what's happening. The sun set early today at the hands of a vampire who shouldn't have the powers he used in doing it, Buffy. This mission just got a whole lot harder for everyone. I really wanted to believe this was a salvage mission going in but I know now that he's gone."

"Welcome to my world. I never had the luxury of doubt and hope. I accepted the fact he was gone when the beast wearing his face killed Marissa. When he killed…" Buffy went quiet.

"Look, we're all sick to death of death. We've faced more loss than anyone has a right to. All we have left are each other. I don't want to lose that. I won't let him take that away."

Then I see it, the same look she wore when Angel said he was leaving Sunnydale. The same look as when her world is crumbling down on her.

"I know, Willow . God, I know that."

In an instant, she's wrapped her arms around me and finally, mercifully the tears begin to flow. Not since his… not since has she dared to shed a tear in any of our company. And now, with her holding onto me for dear life, I feel my own tears come and flow. We stand there in the dark, hugging, letting out everything we kept bottled up for way too long. As soon as I regret Xander missing out, I feel burly arms come around to hold both of us.

"I don't know what's going on and I don't care," he says, squeezing us.

It's enough for us. A new beginning.

 **The Weak:**

"Still intend to collect on our debt?" I grin smugly as I stroll out from the aisles of linens and towards his bed.

Ethan smiles helplessly and sighs. "Pillock, I can barely move."

Slowly, I sink to the edge of the bed and reach out to brush a rogue curl of grey from his forehead. He closes his eyes, leaning into my hand. Unconsciously, it transforms into a consoling caress along his cheek. At the very least, he's earned such gentle attention from me, and so much more.

"You're still weak, then?"

"Like a newborn babe." He shakes his head, wincing with pain in doing it.

"Anything I can do?"

"Put me out of my misery and kill me." His black eyes shimmer playfully up at me. "Wait, worked that one already, as I recall."

I notice the tidy row of bottles untouched beside the bed.

"You haven't fed?" I'm displaying more concern than I would care to.

"Rather trapped in my cot, poppa, remember?"

"You're that weak?"

"Guess tampering with nature takes a lot out of a man. Who'd have thought it?" He chuckles through a grimace. "I'll get to it eventually."

"You need to feed, Ethan. It'll help you regain your strength."

His cringes as I slip my arm under his neck and slowly lift him up towards my chest. Another heave draws out a wince as I feel his bare muscles tremor through the fabric of my shirt. His head falls clumsily to my neck and I lift my hand to brace him there.

"I… I can't…" he whispers against my dimpling skin, the fine hairs rising in anticipation.

"You can. I'll help you, Ethan, hold you. Just drink." His body sinks back a little and I begin to feel panic with the severity of his sickness. It's far worse than I expected.

"Quite the vampire, eh Ripper?" He chuckles feebly, going slack in my arms as I try to keep him steady. "Can't even manage the slightest of nibbles."

"You can do this," I coach him.

With another tug, I bring him closer, guiding his head to my neck again until I feel his lips brush along that sensitive skin of my makers mark.

"There … the skin is thin..."

It's all the encouragement he needs. The hunger drives him toward his task as fangs pierce to a shallow depth. I feel him retract slightly, already exhausted. Determined to get a meal in him, I pull him firmly to me, forcing his bite deeper into the meat. The blood begins to flow and I hear his choking gulps as I bleed into his mouth.

"Drink, Ethan," I whisper, rocking subtly as I would a fussing child. Seems fitting, he is mine after all. "It'll help. You'll see."

I stay there, locked by his bite until his fangs retract. He goes limp and when I lower him, I realize he's succumbed to sleep again.

"Will he be alright, Sir?" Jacobs makes his presence know. I'd been so distracted, I hadn't noticed his entrance.

"I believe so," I whisper and try to stand. My legs give and I fall forward. Jacobs is there in an instant, supporting me with his arm.

"You let him drink too much, Sir. You're weak."

"I'll be fine in a moment."

"Forgive me for asking, Sir, but in all your concern for Mr. Rayne, did * you* remember to feed?"

I chuckle helplessly. "Good question. I believe the answer is no. Bloody brilliant."

"Well, you have a lot on your mind, Sir." Jacobs smiles as he guides me to another bed and helps me sit. After a moment, he kneels and bares his neck as if it was nothing. What had they done to him to break him so?

"You should feed, Sir."

I reach out and grip his shoulder tenderly. "Thank you, Jacobs but no." My hand lifts to cup his chin. "You're far too giving."

"Not for everyone, Sir." Such shyness, even with offering himself to me.

"If you feel the need to cater to someone, help Ethan. Give him two hours then let him take you up on your proposal. If that's asking too much…"

"Not at all, Sir. It would be an honor."

I chuckle at that and the imaginary response from Ethan. "It's Rupert, Jacobs… call me Rupert."

A handsome smile spreads on his lips.

"Thank you, Rupert." He stands and motions toward the main gate. "I'll proceed with my rounds so I can be back when he wakes." He hurries off and I slump to the mattress, feeling my head heavy with fatigue. Maybe just a quick lie down will do the trick.

 **The Fallout:**

We waited a day… a full day before checking the location where the Initiative drop team landed. There were just too many hostiles to worry about. But when we finally make it to the position, we find the same old story. Bodies of soldiers lie along the bent wreckage of a sky rise. Many are strip of weapons, some their dog tags, some their scalps. It was another massacre. The vampires had their fun, fresh meat being delivered on an almost daily basis. What more could they ask for? I move toward the sound of a faintly beeping radio and bend down to pick it up. The last message sent is still blinking on the screen…

"Code 402"

Team down. They didn't have a chance. I notice a thin dusting of ash along a few of the soldiers uniforms. At least they went down fighting.

"Just like last time, no survivors," Willow says somberly, shaking her head in disgust.

"Actually, I think there were," I respond, investigating the carnage more carefully. "I know this is gonna sound… well… cold, but I don't think there's enough bodies here."

"Good, I wasn't the only one thinking it," Xander sighed. "Now to really raise the morbid scale, you think maybe they took home some doggy bags."

"Ew!"

"He's right, Will. That would be smart for them, especially now that LA is permanently lights out. Not many stray humans vacationing where the sun stays set. They'll need reserves."

"Okay, I get that but still with the ew." Willow retrieved another radio and checked the final message. "Darn. Looks like more troops are on the way."

"Don't these guys ever learn?" Xander grumbles.

"I'm going to try and stop the drop. This is playing right into their hands." I punch in the number and wait, dreading the voice sure to be on the other end of the line.

"HB this is CO, come in." I wait and listen. Nothing. "HB this is CO, requesting priority COM, over."

"Looks like a wrong number." Willow shrugs helplessly.

"It's procedure to rotate channels after each drop. Keep the baddies in the dark." Xander smirks. "Sorry, bad choice of words."

"I'll keep trying but I think we better stick close to walls and shelter," I suggest and Xander nods. "No telling how many vamps there are out there. Low profile fun."

"With all the leftovers here, I think we should make camp the next building over. We can keep a lookout over here to see if there is a clean up crew. With any luck, we can pick them off sniper style." Xander pats his pistol and I nod in agreement.

"Take whatever ammo you can find, weapons too. We might need them." He quickly begins to search. "Will, you think you can scrounge up something to keep us camouflaged… avoid anymore surprises?"

"I think I can manage a little something." She smiles confidently.

"Let's get to it."

 **The Ring:**

I manage only small steps, painfully slow and laborious as I make my way along the mall gangway. A change of wardrobe is the present task, something befitting the accomplished sorcerer vampire who blotted out the sun from the City of Angels . Perhaps something to go with my cane. What a mighty sight I must be. Tremble before me, mere mortals. Were it not for the agonizing boredom, I would have stayed in bed.

I notice a shop I'd not investigated before and I make my way slowly towards it. The storefront is shattered, probably looted. I consider moving on but decide I need a rest. A shimmer catches my interest and I glance inside. My dead heart sinks.

"Sir, you should be resting."

I don't fancy company but the circumstance calls for answers and maybe he can supply me with some. "What's your name, Jacobs?"

"Sir?"

"Your proper name? What did your mother call you, or were you born a soldier, boy?"

"Bryce, sir."

"Have you ever made a mistake, Bryce?" I ask, my eyes never leaving the window.

"I'm sure I have, Sir."

"The name's Ethan, Bryce, or don't you remember?"

"Sorry, Ethan."

"Quite alright. You think your commander and chief, the almighty Rupert, is capable of mistakes?"

"On occasion, perhaps. You think he's erred in some fashion, Ethan?"

He may as well be calling me Sir with how he says it.

"Tell me what you see when you look through the glass?"

He looks quickly then responds with only a quizzically raised brow.

"It's not a bloody lottery, Bryce. What do you see there, all shiny and expensive?" I gesture. He must have seen it because his eyes go wide for a moment and then return to calm instantly.

"I see jewelry, Sir."

"Jewelry of what sort, Bryce?"

"Rings, Sir, wedding bands and engagement rings."

"Yes, Bryce… ring's strangely familiar. And look, there's one missing."

"Perhaps it was sold before D-day, Sir."

"They would have taken the display out of the window or replaced it straight away."

"Looters."

"Who took only one ring? Highly unlikely, don't you think?"

I finally turn to face him, placing my ringed hand to rest on his shoulder.

"So tell me, Bryce, has Rupert erred?"

His eyes shift to the ring and back to me.

"No, Sir." His stare is closing in on threatening.

" ‘course not. Thank you, Jacobs." I turn away, giving him as much a brush off as I can manage. "Run along to your master. I'm sure he has some delightfully foolhardy errand for you as well."

Jacobs hesitates for a moment then decides to leave. Good boy. I watch him retreat for a short while then glance back to the window. I see something shaped in the glass and realize it's a reflection.

I have a reflection.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Pause:**

"I usually pride myself on figuring these things out but I gotta say I'm drawing a big blank with this one." I stand at the window, staring at the open rooftop across the way. "Will, I think it's time you take pity on me and tell me what in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is going on here."

"Any sign of the fang boys?" Buffy asks as she takes a seat on the floor. I shake my head, just a bit disappointed.

"Not even a peep. Hate to say it but I think they may be off celebrating their victory." Buffy's irritated and decide to ease up on the sarcasm. "So what's with the daylight wasting time out there?"

"I think it's pretty obvious," Buffy answers. "No more sunlight. All night keggers and the vamps have an all access pass to the city. Just a matter of time before they make their next move. I think we ought to sit and wait until the next drop team shows and then we'll crash the party."

"Did you get through yet?" Hopefully the radio silence is temporary.

"Big donut hole. You were right. They have the Initiative Special Forces playbook and are following it to the letter." She glances down once again, making sure she didn't miss any communications.

I look over at Willow who sits quietly, totally still and barely even blinking. Again with the book we'd found days ago.

" Willow ? You still in there somewhere?" She ignores us and I decide it's time she had a break, involuntarily or no. "That must be some bedtime story." I walk over and take the book. I can't read a word of it and hand it back.

"Huh? What?" She stares, confused. "Oh, I'm sorry guys. Just trying to figure this out."

"What's to figure? I thought it was fairly straight forward." Buffy shrugs and places her jacket on the dusty floor.

"The sun... I mean not the why, but the how." Willow shakes her head.

"I think it's called magic, Will. And you call yourself a witch." I can't help the teasing.

"That's the problem. There shouldn't be any."

"You mean here in LA?" Buffy asks, confused.

"No, there are tons of mystical energies to tap into here. And ever since Wolfram & Hart opened the interdimensional gate, it's like an all you can eat buffet for magicks. That's why I'm recharging so quickly."

"I don't get the big question mark then. If it's Christmas for you, why not for them too?" I join them both on the floor but keep a straight view to the nearby building.

"Hello, still Jewish." She teases and we all share a smile. "That's what's wrong in all this. Vampires shouldn't have mystical abilities. It's not possible."

"Why not? Ethan was all sorcery-guy before, why not after?" Buffy digs through her jacket and retrieves a few energy bars, offering us each one. Suddenly I realize just how hungry I am and snap it up. Willow takes one as well but continues to explain.

"It's part of the whole undead arrangement. When you're turned, all mystical abilities are null and void. In some rare instances, raw even, the energies stick around long enough for minor castings. But nothing like this." She gestures out toward the darkened sky.

"So this is Major League casting?" I tearing into my oatmeal flavored plastic bar.

"More like World Series. Ethan never had this kind of power before. I mean, yeah… he was good… very good. But not acting against nature good. That's… this is more like…"

" Willow good," Buffy concludes and that brings an appreciative smile to Willow 's face.

"I guess." She shrugs.

"So Ethan is making with the mucho magicks when he shouldn't and tap dancing in broad daylight to boot. Vote one for him being not of the vampy camp." I suggest.

"But he was turned. I felt the change in him and his magicks."

"He was turned," Buffy agrees and nibbles on her bar. "My Slayer sense was ringing off the hook both times we were near him and that wasn't just their fang-ful leader setting off the alarm. It was both."

"So we have a vampire sorcerer able to walk in daylight and cast spells as powerful as Willow the Red, here. What does that mean?"

"The Gem of Amarra, maybe?" Buffy asks. "I know Angel destroyed it but maybe the power was transferred somehow or maybe there is something else out there like it. Couldn't there be more artifacts out there in the vampire invincibility line of fashion accessories?"

"I thought of that too, but I'm leaning towards no. Besides the incredibly absurd coincidence of such a thing being possible, you saw him. He didn't look invincible to me. Ethan was drained and hurting. If he was invincible, why wasn't he joining the fun in killing us?" Willow shakes her head, contemplating. "Something else is going on."

"Theories? Hypothesis? Guesstimates? I'm ready for anything at this point." I sigh in frustration.

"I don't know yet, but I'm working on it." She wiggles the chaos book. "And I think the answer is in here."

I hear a faint rumbling and jump to my feet. Copters.

"Drop teams coming!" I rush to the window and see one Apache helicopter escorting two armored transport helicopters, all soaring overhead to disappear off into the distance. "Damn it! They're playing an away game. If we are gonna be the cheer squad, we better get a move on!"

 **The Wanting:**

There is an acrid stench of metal and burnt plastics in the breeze. Sparks flicker from the twisted wreckage of a helicopter jutting out from the building. He's done it again, my sorcerer son. They are no match for us now.

"Half of the second and third squad of invaders was spared, just as you requested, Sir," Jacobs' reports and I'm pleased.

"Well done. Gather all the PDA's and radio transmitters and pile them at the stairs. Make sure no prisoners have hidden signals. Leave half the dead and take all survivors under," I order loudly so all can hear. The men nod their understanding and I finally I feel I can turn my attention to Ethan.

He stands atop the protruding structure of the stairway entry, silhouetted by a creamy moon. I wait as the men execute their orders in clearing out the wounded. Some take their prizes of skulls, of hands, of more intimate bits of flesh with them to continue the celebration back at base camp. Numerous depleted carcasses remain. My boys are thorough. Once the others have left, Jacobs approaches and after a moment, places a cautious hand on my arm.

"Are you alright, Rupert?" He asks with genuine concern.

"Fine, Jacobs. Go on and join the others. I'll be along shortly." He turns to walk away and I stop him with a spontaneous revision. "Oh, and Jacobs, send out an invitation to the northerners that we have food for them."

I can see his objection before he expresses it. "But Sir, these prisoners could last us…"

"The men did well tonight. They deserve more of a reward than terrified flesh." I offer the young man a patient but stern smile. "They deserve company."

"I'll see to it, Sir."

"Good man." Though in fact he is only a boy. "You did well, tonight. But then again, you always do."

"Thank you." He nods and seems grateful enough. "I know you don't usually partake, but can I arrange anything special for you, Sir?"

"That will be all, Jacobs. Leave us." My voice comes off much harsher than I anticipated but I let my words stand as they are. Jacobs hurries off and I watch as the door shuts below the structure where Ethan is perched. We are alone.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I ask quietly, unsure if I am referring to the moon or the man spotlighted by it. Regardless, they make a stunning pair.

"I suppose so." He sounds tired but looks on edge.

"For all your sickness, you did quite well tonight, Ethan." Actually, I'd seen very little of what he'd done, having been rather busy keeping soldiers from him.

"I'm not one of your obedient little lap dogs, Rupert, so don't speak to me as if I were."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Didn't mean to what, exactly?" He turns and stares down at me from above, intimidating eyes washing from black to yellow and back again to black.

"I don't think I understand," I say patiently and more than a little concerned.

"I think you understand far better than me, old friend. I watch you. See all of you in the heat of it… the thrall. The violence is a drug, a part of the sustenance you win with the act itself. You take pleasure in it, every last one of you." He shakes his head and I think I've unraveled what he's on about.

"It comes with time, Ethan."

"Don't tell me that it takes time. It takes more than time. It takes cruelty, ruthless brutality and the utter lack of conscience. All of which you have and I…" his eyes narrow with bottled fury. "You fucking bastard, you knew!"

"Knew what?"

He rips the ring from his finger and tosses it furiously at me. "This… this bloody token is just that… a useless token. Nothing more! It has no more power than a bridal set… you backstabbing bastard!"

Damn it! I'm not ready for this. "I wasn't sure…"

"Liar! You knew the ring was false!"

"Yes, the ring was a cover for the others. How else could I explain you to them?"

"Why? Why can I walk in sunlight, hold crosses, have a reflection? What am I if not a vampire?"

"I don't know."

"You have a damn good notion, though, don't you? You, with your worthless texts and prophecies, you knew what it all meant… what you were doing."

"I gave you the choice, Ethan."

"You gave me damnation!" He shouts I can hear his voice echo off the rotting landscape. It's unwise to vocalize so freely, the night has ears. He rakes his fingers through his hair, biting back whatever words are simmering. Suddenly, he hunches over and I see pain cross his face. I step forward only to be ordered still with his raised hand. "Don't. Just… just don't."

"You're wounded?"

"Few stray bullets." He grunts, pressing at the injury in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

"They're not healing?" Blood is pooling beneath him.

"They are but rather slowly. Slower than any of you and yours. Care to explain that? You made it your life's mission to find answers, Watcher. I think you owe me a few about now, don't you?"

It won't be pretty, admitting. It won't be fair, accepting. It won't be easy, forgiving.

"You're not like the others."

"Do tell?" He chuckles bitterly.

"It's why you still have your mystical abilities, why you bleed more, hurt more, and… and feel more." I take a few steps closer, apologizing with every motion and word. "You're the rarest of breeds, Ethan, one of the few who can't be turned. Not entirely."

"But I have the hunger and the lust for the kill that you all thrive on." He's searching for answers when I can only give him more questions.

"Yes, you do. But you don't have the will to act on it. You're still suffering from your humanity, Ethan."

"Am I dead?"

"As much as any of us?"

"Do I have a soul?"

"I don't honestly know."

"Or perhaps I never had one, is that it?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

"There is much left unknown in the process. I haven't all the answers. I do know you have the demon in you, as we all do. It shows its face in battle, but something of your humanity remains and can't be taken from you."

"Even if I want it gone?" I hear desperation in his tone and can only imagine what it would be like to have that nagging morality eating away at you.

"Perhaps it's an adaptation or mutation… regression of some kind?"

"Punishment is what it is." There's determination with that point. "A killer who can't kill? How am I expected to function like this?"

What else can I say? "Much as you did before, I suppose."

He takes to the air and comes down at me with a pounding blow to my cheek. I'm sent to my knee, feeling the split skin with my fingertip.

"You did this to me!" He roars.

His knee comes up with devastating fury, snapping my jaws shut with a solid strike. It sends me backwards, colliding hard into the air duct work worming from the rooftop. I lift my head in time to see his strike but I resist defense. Blow after blow, he tenderizes me and I feel the rise of the beast within. But I force it down again. Ethan needs this release as much as I need him.

"You knew!" He screams as he pummels me. Every strike is glorious. I never knew he was capable of such ferocity. He claws, he kicks, and he tears into me with a vehemence that's invigorating.

"How could you do this to me?" He grips my shirt, steadying me. Barely a second passes before he gives into his anger again, thrusting me against the piping with each demanding word. "How… could… you…?"

"I need you." I hear myself say it again, like some pitiful mantra. He stops and sweat dribbles from his brow. His teeth clench, fangs waiting to be bared and eyes shimmering wild in the dim light. "I need you, Ethan."

The tension in his features wanes. His mouth fumbles to speak only to falter. Tight fists grip at my shirt, holding me as he examines my beaten face. It's the blood that's tamed him. Then I see his anger evolve into hunger.

"You're one of us but not, Ethan," I whisper as my hand lifts to curve along the back of his neck. "You are so much more."

He's enthralled by the gash on my cheek and longing to taste it. But he resists the urge, eyes closing under the strain.

"How can I live like this?" He whimpers.

"With me," I promise, tugging him in close. He hovers, denying me. Then the textured tip of his tongue skims lightly along the ridge of my jaw. It sends jolts of arousal through me unlike anything I've ever known. He retreats enough for me to see him lick his lips, savoring the flavor. That glorious tongue returns, drawing along the curve of my chin. Suddenly, my head is trapped between his hands as he tends to every crimson drop.

"I should hate you," he snarls in my ear before sampling my split brow. The stinging sets me hard, cursing my mind with images of what that slithering tongue might feel like tangling with mine. He teases near my mouth, licking the trickle of blood in the corner as he speaks daggers. "I deserve to hate you as you must have hated me."

"I never hated you." Lips so close but just out of reach.

He pulls back with eyes black as a starless midnight . "Perhaps you should."

Bloodstained lips crush mine with as much dominion as I claim over my loyal boys. He's kissing me and I can't help but let him, want him. I don't know if I should laugh or cry at the loss of my final innocence. My body chooses its own course, aching to touch him. I groan as his tongue forces its way through my split lips to taste mine. Suddenly my mouth is awash with the tang of copper and magicks. Not satisfied with the lone intrusion, he shifts his hips in, pressing his groin solidly to mine. Our masked arousals wrestle against one another as our mouths continue to wage a wordless war. Another groan slips out and he responds with a satisfied smile.

Ethan has me right where he wants me. Always has, it was only a matter of time.

Broad fingers claw down the front of my shirt, ripping the fabric as they go. His nails score shallow tracks along my chest. Then he parts the shreds and bows down to lap up the beading drops of blood. I tense with his tasting, hurting for that astonishing tongue. My hands remain at my sides, stiff and useless as Ethan discovers my nipple. What madness this is, begging to touch yet unable to act, the sensations being so foreign.

Suddenly, he's gone and my eyes open to his smug smile and shimmering black gaze. "Hardly even, mate, but we're off to a promising start."

I want to object without revealing my desperation but it's futile, as blatant as my breaking voice whimpering his name. "Ethan…"

"Now's not the time, Ripper. We've company coming on the horizon."

Dazed still within a cloud of arousal, I turn to stare off into the distance. Sure enough, there they are, the interfering children racing towards us from the street below. I would curse them dead if only I could do so.

"I'm in no mood to discipline your adopted brats, Rupert. Perhaps we better join your boys in their celebration," Ethan suggests and with a growl I nod. I quickly scan the rooftop and spot what it is I'm after. I hurry over, take it up and smile at Ethan as I return to his side.

"Just let me send them on their way with a little spanking." I press the trigger, the grenade activates and I throw it to the wind. "Spare the rod…"

Crackles of the mystical globe envelopes us just before the explosion sounds. We are gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Explosion:**

"What… what happened?" I ask, struggling to my feet and choking on the cloud of dust surrounding us.

"I don't know," Xander coughs, dusting himself off as he examines the concrete rubble and metal beams folded outward around us.

"Little help?" Willow squeaks nervously and we both turn to see the witch trembling under the weight of a huge slab of building hovering within a shield of glistening magicks.

"Oh my God! What can I do?" I rush to her side, fidgeting and unsure if I can do anything. The weight of the hunk would be way too much for me.

"Just get clear!"

Xander and I rush to step out of the way and with a strained heave, the slab goes crashing to the street where we all stood seconds before.

"Had to be a time delay grenade by the looks of it. There was no way we woulda seen it coming." Xander's shaken. I don't blame him. Me too. "How in all that is unholy around here did you do that, Willow ?"

"I… I just had a feeling. I don't know." She shrugs and works to catch her breath as she takes a seat on the splintered pavement.

"A feeling? What kind of feeling?" I ask.

"I'm not sure." Willow gasps for another breath. "It was like… kinda like a feeling of worry… of concern, maybe. Out of nowhere, I felt it and then there was a strange shift in the color of magicks." She looks up at me, confused. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a warning."

"A warning? From who?" Xander asks, looking to me for answers.

"Someone who works magicks and knows Willow would interpret the code." I glance to the darkened sky, searching the overhanging buildings. "Someone who saw us coming."

"At night, upwind and at least twenty stories above us?"

"Or someone who felt us coming," Willow suggests and I can tell we're thinking along the same terms. "Like I can sense him?" There is a perplexed hope in her eyes. I'm not so easy.

"Why would he warn us?" I ask.

"He who?" Xander asks.

Willow shrugs. "Maybe it wasn't unintentional, just an instinctive response."

"Instinctive response from who?"

"Even so, why would he care? I mean, evil vampire, remember? And us with the big goals to foil him and his bestest buddies evil plans?"

"Well, it's obvious he's not following the rules. Maybe he's more wicked than evil, or mischievous or only quasi-evil?" She's reaching. She wants to believe it and for some reason, so do I. But I can't, I know better.

"Are you guys suggesting that Ethan Rayne made with the code red for us?" Xander chuckles. "A guy who turned Sunnydale's kids into monsters for his own jollies? The same guy who served up a main course of newborn babies to a gigantic sewer snake? The peach of a sorcerer who turned his old buddy into a tufty-eared, snot shooting demon?"

"Oh, and it's not like any other do-badders came to our aid in the past," Willow challenged.

"Okay, forgetting all prior vampires and the histories thereof, say Ethan the as-of-yet-undetermined ‘friendly' vampire did this, intentionally or not. What would that mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him." I say and continue toward the building. I hear Xander and Willow hurrying to catch up.

Of all the things… Magicks, why does it have to be magicks?

 **The Celebration:**

I take to the shadows immediately after our arrival. Demon soldiers surround their general in a victory celebration but Rupert seems keen to watch as I descend into darkness. I smile for him, forgiving him his joyous welcome. They deserve their pride, their happiness and I decide to hide away and watch the family. They are a family. And just as in life, I am left separate and apart as the men rally together.

Not that I don't appreciate the company of men, but I was just about to question the absence of the fairer sex when low and behold, a troop of twenty ladies marches in from the chilled night air. Species a mystery with some, quiet obvious with others. Ages ranging from twelve to a seasoned forty, there is a flavor for every taste. Short and fit to tall and slight, plump and tawdry to average and plain, a selection of feminine beauties all donning smiles and ambition. Every one of them is dressed to impress, tight and shapely designer labels accentuated with jewelry and flare. There is a fashion show fit for the apocalypse underway and all are invited to gawk. How appropriate to hold such proceedings in the gutted carcass of the strip mall.

They are immediately greeted by the men, obviously recognized and expected. Welcoming them with boisterous shouts and howls, the goings-on remind me of hooligans at a football game; beasts just the same.

"How ya doin' boys?" the tallest of the pretties yells out and receives hoots and hollers a plenty.

"Heard you cleaned house of another sweeper team tonight."

More rowdy cheers and suddenly, bottles of scotch, tequila, whisky and rum appear out of nowhere. "Well, we think that deserves a celebration, and a handsome reward!"

War cries of horny young studs echo out through the halls as the ladies are escorted toward the main hall in an improvised parade of the damned. I follow at a gradual pace, keeping a short distance. I see Rupert talking to Jacobs, a stern expression creasing his brow. Something's wrong. Jacobs casts a curious eye to his torn shirt and I can't help my satisfied smile as he attempts to explain it away. When he notices the revelry making its way toward him, he feigns good cheer and welcomes them with a smile.

"Pleasure to see you ladies, been much too long a time since we last shared company," his voice bellows out over the crowd and all hush quiet to hear. Just witnessing his authority makes me hard.

"Not as much a pleasure as it is for us, Rupert." The lady flirts with a thick southern drawl, eyeing the exposed skin of his chest that I'd intended for no one but myself. It's the first I've heard someone besides me refer to Rupert in the familiar. Does he have himself a lady friend? I find my jaw tense with the thought, fists clenched and brow heavy. But who am I kidding? I have no claim to him despite my attempts to prove otherwise.

"Miss Emily, thank you for coming." He nods politely. A meager nod? Hardly a sign of affection and my hopes are rekindled. "Thanks to my skillful men, there is a feast awaiting you all." Rupert dismisses them with a wave and the parade marches onward like a river flowing between us. He finds me through the current, watching from the opposite bank. I stare unblinking and purposeful, enough to scare away his gaze. There's contemplation in his expression. When he returns to me, I smile, welcoming him back. It is a game of glances, as childish as passing crush revealing notes in school. But there's no innocence in our intentions, only a primal, silent calling.

My smile fades with his single finger pointing discretely off in the opposite direction to the flow of demon traffic. It's an invitation and I nod in acceptance. He leans over and whispers something to Jacobs before wandering off alone. Jacobs watches Rupert meld into the shadows then the young vampire casts a furious glare my way. I want to read into his expression. It could mean so many things, jealousy, disgust, or perhaps a warning not to hurt his chief. My intuition chooses the latter. I wink, delighting in the drama whatever it means. I leave him to stew as I stroll off to find Rupert. The others continue their celebration, oblivious to our absence.

I smell him through the darkness, a heady musk baiting me along the narrow department store aisles. Breadcrumbs through a maze. I turn and search the dark, finding only shadows and disappointment. Then a gentle whisper of my name tickles my ear and moves on.

When I find Rupert, he is no longer hiding in shadows but stands at the entrance to a shop, not far enough to be out of calling range of his men. We've cut through the department store, heading the crowd off with a shortcut. I'm a little let down until I realize he's still separated himself from the others, much like a lion would separate its prey from denser numbers. Is Rupert playing the part of the hunter or prey? Perhaps a willing self-sacrifice. The location is a curious selection, poorly concealed behind a display of dead vines speckled with rotten flowers, the lifeless remains of a modest floral shop. Irony in rare form, being surrounded by what one could consider the beauty of death.

"A solitary kiss?" I begin the seduction with his weapon of choice, words, spoken in my deepest tone, "…one measly union of flesh, limp and yielding?"

He remains steady, an unwavering statue ready to withstand my every inducement. I can't wait to break him.

"Hardly enough to satisfy the balance between us, Rupert." I creep slowly behind him. He remains determinedly forward, overseeing his men as they celebrate. Perhaps he craves an audience.

"See them, Captain? Your loyal army ants awaiting the next fateful order?" He restrains a shiver with my words and it makes it all the more delicious. "Your willing and able waiting and eager? But it's not them you're after, is it?"

If only I could take him here and now… and why not?

"You crave something more than dull devotion."

"What is it you want to hear, Ethan?"

So burdened, his desires trampled under the weight of humility. My poor, poor, proper boy, I'll deliver you as you delivered me.

"The truth, for once in our bloody useless lives… deaths," I correct with a chuckle. "Tell me." My tongue glides over the bite marks I left on his neck not that long ago. I'm pressing against his backside, making my intentions as clear as the dawning erection I wouldn't dare mask from him now.

"I've told you all I know. What more is there to say?"

"A great deal more, Ripper. About you."

I rock forward again sending my already rigid flesh against his tight arse. The wickedness within reminds me I could force him with a spell, take what I want and burn him to a cinder when through if it weren't for this bloody bond. What have you done to me?

"I know you feel it, that itch you can't scratch? That tickle you can't tame."

"I don't know what you're on about."

"I'm talking about shagging you senseless, Ripper. Fucking away our past until it's as much dust as we're destined to become."

"What makes you think I've any interest in such a proposition?"

I smile, so pompous and privileged.

"This!"

I bring my hand around front of him and plant it firmly to his groin. It bucks majestically beneath the fabric. My fingers curl to cup him and it twitches again. He surrenders in silence as I claw my fingers up along the outer threads and then tuck within the tight confines of his jeans. All the while, I continue to grind a slow tempo along his arse, readying him for things to come.

"Admit it, Ripper. We've nothing left between us but what we make of this. Tell me."

"Ethan, please." It's such a charmingly desperate plea.

"Please what? I need to hear it." My fingers breach the forest of curls guarding my destination.

"I need you, Ethan." He winces it, as if ashamed. At long last, sweet victory.

"Not nearly enough," I growl and drop to my knees. I tug him to face me and pry open his unraveling zipper. "But you will."

"Not here," he orders with his strong hands reaching down to grip my wrists.

"Oh yes," I demand, twisting free and pushing him flush to the wall. He stutters his half-hearted protests as my fingers encourage his cock to spring free. "Right here, right now, with your boys unawares." Fuck, his horror is luscious. "Not a one of them could ever know you as I do and will."

He stifles a grunt as I ensnare him within my grip and give him a persuasive squeeze.

"Sing me your praises now, Ripper."

He opens his mouth to object and I silence him with a kiss, my lips wrapping around that part of him he will forever associate with me from this point forward.

Pure poetry in the flesh.

If there was ever a hallowed suicide to be envied, it would be to choke upon his generous cock as it suffocated the life from you yet left you pleading for more. Such was his magnificent manhood that it made you weep with its silken texture, its taste, it's utter beauty, that you would pledge your soul for another blessed communion. Or perhaps he's simply food for a starving man. Either way, bliss.

What wonderful winces and insatiable sounds he makes. I milk him as his emerald eyes shut tight in agony. I work him up to a boil of blood and lust, gliding his velvet wrap of skin to set him hard. He is delicious, all tight and frantic. I dare him not to roar as my tongue gently dips within the dewing slit of his cock. Then I slick along that bundle of tension running the base length of his shaft. He's electric and ready to spark.

"You taste wild, Ripper."

"Fuck, Ethan… "

"In time. It takes time," I mock him with his own words but he doesn't care. I take him in again only deeper, swallowing as his willful cock spanks the back of my throat. It's then I realize I've no need to breathe. I could torment him for all eternity, churning him until his cream sours with the need for release.

Death has its benefits.

"So… fucking… good…" His hands come to rest on either side of my head, fingers weaving to fists in my hair as his demon surfaces.

"Harder!" When I look up, I see the beast and tear myself away. He snarls furious with my retreat, fiery eyes glaring out from under a sharply shadowed brow.

"No, not like this." It's nearly a disciplinary tone and he's awash with frustration.

"Not like what?" He grumbles, perhaps unaware of his transformation. I stand and raise my hand to his ridged brow, trying to explain without explaining. As my fingers etch along the crests, his eyes pale back to green as the beast retracts.

"Sorry," he mutters shyly. I actually believe he is. Strange to hear that coming from a monster. I cup his chin to lift his face, forgiving him with a tender kiss.

"You've been trapped too long in their world, Rupert. It's time you remember mine. Come with me." I lead him by the hand as I would a lost child. He tucks himself back within his jeans and follows dutifully along.

 **The Surrender:**

Ethan guides me into deeper shadows. When we emerge, we are surrounded by the curiosities of a gift shop catering to magicks and new age gospels. He glances back, smiling as he leads. The large, obsidian pools of his eyes sparkle in the passing light, luring me on.

"Where are you leading me?" I ask, knowing better than to expect anything more than a riddle.

"We've tried it your way. Now it's your turn for Wonderland, Alice ."

As expected, riddles. Even so, I can't help but enjoy the sense of excitement that comes with the mystery. Something tells me I won't be disappointed in the result.

Ethan leads me into a shop I haven't discovered. Before my nocturnal sight can adjust, he snaps his fingers and triggers the room to illuminate with a sea of candles. They flicker and dance with his impulse. Such influence at the tips of his fingers, is it the same for me?

It's a beautifully dressed stage and can't help but smile. There's a bed of silken red cushions spread out along the floor, all shapes and sizes tossed more than arranged. I smell a perfume of oils; the sensual alchemy of ylang ylang and nutmeg. The flames cast deep shadows that emphasize his handsome features, shaving years from him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd consider this romantic. You did this for me?"

"Hardly," he chuckles. "Quite the contrary, I assure you. Been a long time, Rupert, years without knowing the touch of another. I've had some time to imagine… to craft this to my liking. Couldn't care less if you approve, mate."

"In any case, I do." Sounds almost juvenile, admitting without needing to. But I mean it.

"Glad to hear it," he responds with seeming disinterest. He pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it aside, nearly knocking over some candles in doing so.

"Mind your inferno, Ethan. It'd be a shame to waste all your thoughtful preparations."

"Not to worry, Ripper, it won't be wasted," he coons, stripping away the remains of my already shredded shirt and sending it flying across the shop to join his. He eyes my bare, scratched chest, lips parting with a fledgling smile.

"Take off your shoes." It's not a request, it's an order.

My unsatisfied desire moves me to follow the command. I kneel before him, knowing full well the crude thoughts running rampant in his mind with my arrangement to him. The very same as my own. He steps closer, his fingers grazing through my hair as I finish setting my shoes aside. This effortless touch of his is mystifying. Everything about Ethan is sensual, every motion, every word, all aimed at rousing those carnal instincts I try so hard to deny. Not any longer, I swear to myself.

"Now mine," he directs a finger toward his shoes.

Again, no allusion of affection in his tone, only demands to be met or otherwise punished. Or perhaps this is the punishment, this discipline of servitude. I remove his shoes and set them beside mine. His fingers continue to rake gingerly through my hair and I close my eyes with the soothing gesture. The strokes grow in vigor, rolling my head forward and back, lulling me into a sedate stupor. Soon, I feel the cool, coarse texture of stiff material to my cheek. When I open my eyes, I find my face pressing against his masked groin, rubbing solidly with every caress. The proximity of his arousal awakens my curiosity. I'm fascinated and nuzzle into him, rewarded by a subtle spasm through the cloak of material.

"I've waited long enough, don't you think?" He stares down at me with narrow eyes, intense and filled with desire. And yet he waits for me to choose, to act, to take.

"Yes, you have." My fingers dip within the waist band and I unfasten the buttons one by one. He watches patiently as I part his fly and begin to tug, shifting the jeans down over his hips. I see a glimpse of flesh inches from me, still caged. So familiar yet as foreign in its intimacy as if to a virgin. Still, he watches and waits, taking in my reaction as the jeans slip from his hips to gather in a heap at his feet.

My gaze locks to his cock displayed before me. As with his artful body, his masculine flesh is remarkable; a shapely girth of folded edges growing smoother as he stiffens before my eyes.

"With them, your soldier boys, you inspire loyalty, bravery, cohesion," Ethan speaks in a tutorial tone, one reminiscent of my own. "This is what you inspire in me."

There's vulnerability in his words as his gaze begs reassurance. My hand lifts, almost of its own accord, to gently cup his burgeoning erection. It's a touch meant more for fragile things. Even so, it triggers a gasp from Ethan that pleases me to the point of craving more. Absurd, my initial reaction to him. His flesh is like my own, I need not treat it with such caution. I curl my fingers gently around his shaft and begin to move as I would to please myself, hoping it's enough for him. His lips part for a sigh and I can see the pleasure along his features. I feel the hardness I awake in him and with it, encourage my own.

I wonder what he tastes like? For an instant, I consider gracing him with the very same treatment as he gave me. But the thought of failure or worse, embarrassment, keeps me from risking my pride. His hand captures my chin and guides me to return to my feet. He's smiling, contented with so little and forgiving my apprehension.

Ethan kisses me tenderly as he works my jeans loose. With a tug, they descend and he sinks with them. With a wink and a smile, I'm immersed again within his mouth. I'm speechless as marvelous lips band tightly around my engorged cock, stroking fluidly, pumping with a fervent rhythm. The swollen, wet muscle within curls, bring every cell back to life with its glorious attention. His fingers glide along the base of my shaft until they reach the tender flesh of my scrotum. I instinctively spread my legs, welcoming him and am rewarded with his hand cupping and gently massaging me to insanity. Within moments, I'm as hard as stone and wanting more.

"Join me," he says, inviting me with a gentle smile as he falls back to the cushions. I sink to the improvised bed and prop up on my side, facing him. He leans in, placing another delicate kiss to my lips. He explores my body with the gentle touch of a lover, unhurried and attentive. His long, thick fingers make their way down my back and knead effortlessly along my arse, releasing the nervousness knotted there.

"I tried to hate you," he speaks candidly, fingers following along creases. "It worked for a while, even managed to plot your death a few times. But then the dreams began."

My hands join his in the adventure, seeking out to discover his body as he discovers mine.

"They kept me heavily medicated. Most of the time, I couldn't tell dream from reality. It was quite lovely, really."

"I considered coming for you, more than once." It's all I can offer him. "When I inquired as to whether or not information of your whereabouts could be obtained, the Council refused to waste resources in trying. Not surprisingly, they considered you a welcome casualty in their righteous war."

"As they do now with you."

"Nice to be a wanted man." Humor meant to mask the odd sorrow I still hold with that truth.

"You've always been wanted, Ripper, you just didn't know where to look." The sincerity of his eyes sends an ach through my chest.

"I'm looking now."

"That you are." His fingers claw down my back and continue lower still. If I required breath, it would be stolen from me as his touch delves between to part my buttocks, brushing along the tensed ring of flesh awaiting him. He leans in and engages me in a kiss meant to distract as he tests the tautness of his intended destination.

His eyes sparkle as his lips brush lightly to mine. Rolling fingers tease along the dribbling head of my erection as he slicks his digits. Realizing it's hardly enough moisture for what we require, he retrieves a well placed tube of lube. Crafted to his liking, indeed. His other hand grips the ridge of my hip and nudges me tenderly back. I easily interpret the unspoken message and roll until facing away from him.

Silken lips touch down on the back of my neck as his hand glides along the curvature of my side. I'm a jumble of nerves, anxious and aroused and fighting off petrifaction. Though I know what to expect, the pure physicality of his invasion triggers instinctive resistance. He sinks knuckle deep, slippery thickness pausing with my unintentional defiance. But he doesn't relent in his pursuit. Instead, he remains buried and begins moving with the slightest of motions, circular and hypnotic.

"Remember the magicks," he purrs and I try to listen. "The trance state, the profound meditation of lucid dreaming?"

"I remember," I gasp as he sinks further in, both longing for and dreading the pain that's sure to come.

"Remember the vibration of energies as they quiver along your spine and outward, stretching toward release."

"Yes… yes, I… I remember."

"Feel them now."

An undeniable current of heat rumbles through me, traveling from the origin of his intrusive finger and rippling out to strike every nerve. My muscles shudder with the pulse, constricting tight and then loosening. I've felt this before with him, when casting.

"I do."

Another charge of magicks seeps from his wiggling finger. It increases twofold, persuading my flesh to relax with sensual strums of intoxicating power. He retracts, guiding me flat to the cushions and I feel him crawl over my legs, his body radiating a strange heat as he moves. He grips my hips, lifting them until I'm up on my knees, back arched in a submissive pose. His fingers return, slipping in with easy motions, fucking me so beautifully I could spill right here and now.

"Ethan, please."

"Relax and open to me, Ripper," he tells me softly and I concentrate on the magicks invading my body. "Just as you've done before."

I feel the chaos he's channeling and concentrate on letting it flow freely through me. I stifle a grunt as it happens, the withdrawal of the mystical touch to the achingly slow press of slicked hardness taking its place. With a determined thrust, he sheaths within and I groan at the maddening pressure of his flesh. I hear an echo of my grunt in the form of a gratified moan from Ethan.

"Christ! You're fucking lovely, Ripper."

He leans forward, tugging at me with his shifting flesh as he places a kiss to the mid of my back. The mildness of his lips sends shivers along my spine and when his hand captures my cock, it springs up to obey.

"Slow now, with me. Don't fight it," he directs and starts to move. The motion is slight yet makes the landscape of my body feel as if it's erupting with pain of pleasure. Heat, same as before only frenzied now, washes through me.

"Fuck… Ethan …" I'm not sure what I'm pleading for but he seems to know as he hastens his movement, retracting and pushing. We find a rhythm like the heartbeats we once had. With every stroke, he sinks deeper only to withdraw further yet never fully abandoning me. It's sinful and I can't fathom denying myself ever again.

"Can you feel it? The magicks?" he asks with forced breathes, more habit than necessity.

Amid a storm of sensations, my body rumbles with a strange thunder. His unrelenting cock finds some well hidden trigger within me and I gasp out in pleasure of its discovery.

"I feel it," I grunt as he strikes at it again and again with a brilliant accuracy.

I haven't experienced magicks this intense since my youth. It drives me to move. I push up with my arms, forcing back to meet his slow thrusts, demanding momentum.

"More, Ethan," I growl and feel his pumping hand tighten around my thirsty cock.

"All that I have and more, love," Ethan purrs as he plunges, stopping only when the slap of our flesh demands it. And with the penetration comes more heat of fluid energies.

"This is what I am." Ethan grunts as his thrusts grow harder, as brutal as the punches he threw earlier. "What you've made of me."

I cry out with the force, all agony and ecstasy bound by energies I can't control. They burn rapture with every dive. The demon is tamed, buried by Ethan's strokes and I can sense him reaching release.

"Ethan." I ram back to meet him. His body tenses, one hand pumping a supremely clumsy rhythm.

"My Ripper." He cries out as he steers one last thrust inside.

Ethan pours into me with a flood of emotions I'm helpless to hold back, some new, some forgotten, some as fantastically unruly as the magicks that spurred them. I feel something miraculous and undeniably terrifying amongst the pleasure and hurt of venting desires. I feel remorse. Not for the passions I share with Ethan, but for actions before.

Deathly faces flash across my inner sight, silenced screams and ghostly visions of Hell. Panic stirs as Ethan does and I fight the urge to push free from him. As the terrifying remorse grows clearer, the brute within revels in the remembered violence I caused and is moved toward release. My balls draw up as I spit my dead seed to the blood-colored cushions below; sticky, tepid and repentant.

Ethan slows his motions, mercifully coming to a stop with a flagging press. He collapses forward to rest on my back, sweat dripping as he places a few lazy kisses to my slick skin.

"I could stay like this forever, if you'd let me. But I'm sure the great commander has more imperative issues." He separates from me and I am already lonely with his departure. He slumps to the cushions and runs his fingers through his tousled locks. "Thank you."

I offer a nervous smile, still bothered by the troubling emotions welling within me.

"So tell me, oh wise one, do vampires suffer love?" He asks with a quiet sigh, wiping his mess from my backside with a lazy stroke of his hand. Good… questions… something to distract from these deplorable emotions.

"They do," I answer, recalling something Spike had argued once. "Some say with more fire than flame. Angry, raw emotions not kept in check by a conscience."

Ethan suppresses a yawn as he speaks; smearing his hand on the cushions, "Have you ever felt such torment? Since your turning, I mean."

"I thought I had once," I admit mindlessly and dread revealing it a moment after. Unwanted and mostly forgotten memories invade my mind.

"Thought?"

"It was love," I whisper, "…confused as it was, love just the same."

"Your sire?" Ethan deduces.

"Yes."

"Is it common, to feel such things for your sire?"

I forget he's a newborn. Then again, so am I considering the chronicle of such things. If it weren't for my life's vocation, I would be just as unprepared for this as any vampire.

"There is a bond formed with the exchange but love is a rare quality to be fashioned by such brutal means."

"So this confused love of yours, was it born of your death or before?"

How much do I give of myself, body and soul, no matter how vile? Regardless of whatever the righteous one's corrupt scriptures claim, I retain a soul. Perhaps not one formed of ether and morality, but a hollow that holds memories to be tended to like commandments that I follow, long after they've been shattered. What can I tell? In truth, he deserves it all. But not now… not yet. In time.

"The love preceded my turning. The confusion came after." I glance over at him, admiring his sweat glistening face as it falls lazily toward mine for one last kiss. "Why do you ask?"

After a moment of consideration, he smiles, pulls back and shrugs. Then with a tired tone, says, "No reason but that of a curious student seeking better understanding."

The intrusive images intensify, staining my vision with nightmares I once thought delicious but suddenly seem ghastly to me. It's too much and I struggle to my feet to quickly yank on my jeans.

"Leaving so soon?" He asks, disappointed.

"I need to see to my rounds, Ethan. I'll be back shortly."

"I won't be here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll be waiting for you in the linens department. I could use a proper bed with a mattress and sheets and you lying next to me."

His words offer some comfort, though not nearly enough. My nerves are raging, head pounding, heart sinking in sorrow. What's happening to me?

"I'll meet you there."

I rush off, not waiting for a response. It must look damn strange to him but I can't help that. Something is wrong and I suddenly need space and time to think… and one of those Initiative radios.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Revelation:**

It's so quiet here, tucked away in the far room of a penthouse suite. For the first time since our arrival, I manage a moment alone. We need space and rest, especially Willow with her recent drain of magicks. She said she needed a quiet area to meditate, not only to restore herself but to see what more she can dig up on Ethan.

I hate having to depend so much on magicks. It's not that I don't trust Willow, I do. It's just, I'd feel much better when I can stake, decapitate and burn… physical attacks and solutions and not this mystical hoopla.

Xander also needs some alone time. He would never say anything but I can see he's tired. We all are. This ‘mission' is harder than we thought and becoming more difficult with every new twist.

I shove a comfortable chair closer to the large window and fall into it. A poof of dust makes my nose tickle and I cough, but it's still inviting enough for me to stay. I stare out at the view of the city. Weird. I've gotten used to seeing the twisted landscape of towers and trenches, eerie and desolate. I can barely imagine it used to be a busy metropolis.

Something breaks the silence. It's the faint static of the radio and I unclip it from my belt. Someone's trying to reach us, finally. The sound is almost reassuring and I quickly respond in hope to hear a friendly voice.

"HB this is CO, come in." I wait and listen. With the lack of response, I try again. "HB this is CO, do you copy?"

"Buffy."

My heart lurches with the mild voice calling out to me through the static.

"I know you're there, Buffy. Most likely alone, listening. I've been assured this channel is secure so there's no need to worry about prying ears."

I don't know what to do.

"It's just us in the dark."

I look around to see I am alone, just me and him.

"It's come time to discussed matters, don't you think? One soldier to another."

It seems like an eternity for my voice to return. "I'm listening." Short and all business.

"You won't win."

"Not here to win."

"You've come to die, then?"

"Come to clean up a mess."

"What you call a mess, I call a new beginning."

"Beginning of what? A new world for vampires? You're just like the rest. No different than any other big bad would-be evil visionary."

"Perhaps. I guess it all depends on your definition of evil," he answers softly then after a pause, he asks, "How are you?"

I want to laugh. How am I? "Is it the customary enemy bonding moment because I gotta warn you, I'm clean out of tissues."

"Enemy," he chuckles. "We're not enemies, Buffy."

"Let's see, vampire, vampire Slayer. Last time I checked, that constitutes enemies. What's your story?"

"Stranger than fiction." His tone gives me chills. "Clear as the day you'll never see again, as bright as the sun sent away on a whim."

"Enough of the insane verse, if we're not enemies, what are we?"

"Reflections of each other."

"Vampires don't have reflections."

"Oh, but I do, Buffy. Not the common sort, trapped to flat panes of glass and metal. My reflection lives and breathes, a physical manifestation born free from light but seeking illumination, just the same."

"And I suppose you're the one whose gonna illuminate me?"

"You want to know, don't you? How it happened?"

I don't. I don't ever want to know.

"I already know all I need to. You took what you wanted and will continue to until I stop you."

"What I wanted?" The static signal intensifies with his sigh. "Of course, what else would you think? I want to see the sun die. To see the sky bleed, the rivers boil… to see trees wither and burst into flame..."

"Nice to know you kept a level head in all the apocalypse."

"It's what you want to hear, isn't it? What you need to hear so you have your proof that I am the monster you think I am."

"No, you were a monster the second you killed the only family I had left in the world."

"I wasn't the one who drove a stake through her heart!" He roars and it scares me, which scares me more.

"You did when you murdered Dawn and made her into a soulless monster like you!" I can roar too.

"Trouble is, I didn't make her into a demon, Buffy," he whispers soulfully, "…she made me."

 **The Key:**

 _"What, no Buffy?" Dawn asks, a pizza box in one hand and two six packs of my favorite import beer in the other._

 _"She couldn't be bothered, I'm afraid," I grumble a crusty response. "Looks like it'll just be the two of us. Do come in. Oh, sorry, let me help you with that." I take the pizza box from her and head toward the kitchen._

 _"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. Not as if you and I see much of her lately… or ever," she says sadly as she comes in and closes the door behind her. "So this is the new bachelor pad. Leaning toward swinging singles groovyness."_

 _"Suits my needs well enough. Not too much space but enough for my books and things. Feel free to make yourself at home." I set the box on the counter and reach to take the beer from her but keep my distance, hoping she doesn't notice the scent of scotch on my breath._

 _"Feels like you." She wanders around, quickly taking in the atmosphere of the room then follows me into the modest sized kitchen. I gather some plates from the cupboard and she watches with a smile and says, "I approve. You did good."_

 _"You really think so?" I smile gratefully, setting the plates beside the box and fetching some napkins. "It's not too… er, um… stuffy?"_

 _"I'm not gonna say it's all cuddly with the decorative details. You're quite comfortable with the bare necessities of life and you're definitely not at one with any of the interior decorator deities. But it's got a certain indistinct charm. Kinda like its tenant."_

 _That brings a shy smile to my face that seems to brighten hers._

 _"So how long are you renting the place for?" She decides to take on the task of serving, shooing me away with a wave of her hand. When I don't move fast enough to her liking, she bumps me playfully with her hip, nudging me aside. I give in, moving on to retrieve the parmesan and hot sauce she loves from the refrigerator._

 _"I'm not renting, actually. It's mine. Signed the paperwork last week."_

 _Her face lights up with the news and before I know it, she's wrapped her arms around me. She's practically bouncing with excitement, two pizza slices flapping on either side in giddy celebration._

 _"You're staying, then? Not going back? I knew it! I knew it!" She pulls back, tosses the slices to the plate then gives me a proper hug._

 _"I'm staying," I gasp, amused as I shift us just enough to disarm myself of the toppings and return her warm embrace. "Had I known it would go over this well, I'd have told you last week."_

 _Her animated excitement quiets and I feel her nuzzle in tenderly to me. It feels good to have her in my arms, again. It's been far too long since I've held her, since she's been held by anyone of her family._

 _"It'll be just like old times again. You, me, and Buffy. Like after mom…" she suddenly goes quiet and withdraws, face flushing. "Um… the pizza's going to get cold. We better…"_

 _I nearly inquire what's bothering her, but chose instead to respect her wish to change the subject. "Let's get to it, then." I agree with a smile._

 **The Change:**

 _"Then the guy says, ‘I'll give you ten for the girl, twenty for the boy, and one hundred for the sheep'," Dawn bursts out with laugher which does more to inspire my own than the horrid joke she'd just told. We're both more than a little drunk, as evidenced by that rather blue tale. Even so, it's her happiness that draws me to laugh and smile. It's as if things are good again and everything is right with the world. If only Buffy was here. Regardless of the disconnection, I'm sure we'd both have appreciated a visit here and there. Especially now._

 _"God, I missed this," Dawn says with a chuckling tone, settling back deeper into the couch. I've never seen her so relaxed and comfortably numb._

 _"I miss you." She nudges my knee with her own._

 _"Thank you. I missed you too." A quick check of her bottle and I realize we're both dry. "Another round?"_

 _"I probably shouldn't."_

 _"I don't see why not. You're a responsible adult, fully capable of handling yourself, if need be." I encourage her, regrettably aware that I am far too intoxicated to be passing on parental advice. "Besides, I despise drinking alone."_

 _"Is that how you see me?" she smiles, forehead creasing with expectation. "An adult?"_

 _"And why not?" I return her hopeful smile, clumsily dropping my hand to her knee and giving it a tender squeeze. "You've given me little reason to think otherwise. You're a beautiful young lady, Dawn. Only a fool would fail to see it."_

 _"I'm glad you think so."_

 **The Plea:**

 _"Why shouldn't we have this?" She pursues me as I escape to my bedroom. I shut the door only to have her kick it open in her rush to catch up. "We're both lonely with nowhere else to turn. Like the rest of the world, she doesn't care about us anymore. Why should we?"_

 _"I'm sorry, Dawn, but its just… it's wrong."_

 _"Wrong?" She questions, corralling me into a corner of the room._

 _Her hands reach for my face and I grip her wrists firmly before me, fighting to keep her at bay yet avoiding hurting her. My head is swimming drunk and now sickly with the thought of her inappropriate advances. She manages to break free from my grip and her hands roam my body._

 _"Wrong for two lonely people to come together?"_

 _"Wrong for *us* to come…"_

 _Lord, she's pressing up against me, her slight, lithe body slinking along mine and I can barely focus. I force her back, urging her with a shake to respect my refusal._

 _"I love you Dawn, I do. But not like this. Not * ever* like this."_

 _"It doesn't matter. Not anymore. I can make you love me, in many more ways. In all the ways." She presses up against me, grinding her hip into my groin, coaxing me with kissing words along my lips. "Everyway that counts, you'll whimper your love, groan your love, scream your love for me."_

 _"No." This can't be happening._

 _I try to pull away but find I can't. It's an exercise in frustration. I break free to be caught by her other hand. I gain freedom only to be pinned between her body and mine. All the while a frightening numbness spreads quickly to overtake my body. Could she have slipped something in the drink, the pizza?_

 _"What have you done?" My accusation slurs._

 _"I gave you a little something to relax. Take the edge off." She smirks proudly._

 _"I can't… I won't do this."_

 _"Why not? It's not as if you have anyone else… like I have anyone. Give in, Rupert."_

 _My heart lurches with her calling me by that name. It feels as wrong as her insistent strokes along my groin, as her breasts rubbing along my chest, as her tongue licking the outer edge of my ear. She kisses me lightly and I grimace at the leaping of my cock to greet her. She smiles, pleased by the uncontrollable reaction of my body to her unwanted proposition._

 _"I can feel you wanting me. You're all hard, Watcher. For shame! How long have you wanted this? Picturing me taking you into my mouth and…"_

 _"No, I can't hear this…" I shake my head, praying that it is all just a nightmare, a sick, demented nightmare. "I won't…"_

 _"Buffy turned her back on me, taking with her the only family I had left," Dawn curses at me. "Buffy took * herself* away from me. Now I'm going to take someone away from her."_

 _"Dawn, you don't know what your saying. You're drunk and emotionally distraught. This isn't you."_

 _"At least you're half right, Rupert."_

 _I stop fighting when I see her eyes yellow, giving up all my hopes with the plumping of her brow. I should have known. Perhaps I did._

 _"Dear lord, no. Dawn." I reach out to cup her cheek, my thumb drawing along her creased demonic temple. "I'm so very sorry." I choke back my sobs._

 _"Don't be sorry. Be mine." Sacrilege, that's what it feels like as she grinds into me, licking her raping tongue along my lips to push though, passed and inside. Vulgar, repulsive blasphemy._

 _My body surrenders to the poison, no longer answering my orders. My legs buckle first, and I fold to the ground like a rag doll. She follows with perverse fascination until I collapse flat on my back. Dawn smiles satisfied and kneels beside me. She tears out the zipper to my jeans and admires what she's revealed._

 _"It's like unwrapping a gift." She gropes at my stiff flesh through the thin cotton fabric. "Aren't you going to sing for me?"_

 _I wince as a finger delves beneath to scratch my cock with a rigid fingernail._

 _"Dawn, please…"_

 _"So eager. But I have to get you warmed up first."_

 _I pray forgiveness for my arousal, for my weakness, for my past, present and future sins as she wraps her hand around my pulsing cock and begins to pump, forcing me harder still. I try to pull away only to find my drunken body unable to escape. She watches with delight as she sets me hard in her determined hand._

 _"Dawn, don't do this. Please don't do this."_

 _"Save your pleas for later. Now be a good little Watcher and keep those gorgeous greens watching me." She presses her chilled lips to mine, stifling my cries._

 **The Death:**

 _I am entombed with her as her fangs pierce and sink. She drinks leisurely, tenderly as her thin body rocks forward and back. I feel the chill of her flesh choking me and can't hold back my repulsion fueled sobs._

 _"Kill me," I gasp as she hastens the tempo, "End it here. If you ever cared for me, Dawn, please."_

 _My feet go numb, numbness beyond numb, heavy and disconnected and icy cold. Then it moves up into my hands, as if it were an apparition possessing me. Soon, it claims my legs and arms, crawling along until I can only feel my mind trapped helpless and praying for the end as my cock stretches up defiantly inside her, driving her toward her inhuman orgasm. My eyes dry and stiffen as a chill settles the length of my dying body. I can barely make out the hazy vision of Dawn biting at her wrist. She holds her bleeding arm over my petrified mouth gasping for futile breaths._

 _I feel my soul die as I pour helpless pints of blood, spill hopeless trails of salt, spurt useless stains of seed, all the time begging for the end to my ill fashioned death at the hands of a girl I loved as my daughter, my very own._

 _"I'll give you a love that never leaves and never dies, Giles."_

 _She continues to fuck me, still riding wildly as I feel my last breath leave my body. I hear the ecstasy of her climax as my heart finally stops, seeing her beautiful corpse writhe above me as I join her in death to the last words of, "You'll give me my revenge."_

 **The Denial:**

My God, no!

My stomach churns in disgust with the accusation. He's a demon, like Angelus, trying to twist the truth to hurt me.

"You lie," I curse him.

"I've no reason to, Buffy." His voice is regretful and ashamed. "Believe what you will but the truth was there the entire time, yours for the taking if only you'd open your eyes."

"I'll kill you for this," I threaten uselessly.

"I know."

I won't give him what he wants. I won't take the bait. "You won't win, vampire."

"Didn't come here to win, Slayer." I can't deny the sadness clear in his voice.

"Then why? Why are you doing this?"

"To clean up a mess, Buffy."

The radio fills with empty static and I wait for more.

"Hey!" There's no answer. "You still… still there?" The radio slips from my trembling fingers to the floor. It can't be true. It's all lies.

Then why am I crying?


	13. Chapter 13

**The Mercy:**

I'm famished. Always after sex. It's one habit I've yet to break, having given up smoking and drinking for her… my childmother. Again memories burn in my mind, ones I wish would fade…

 _"I hate cigarettes and scotch on you, Ripper. Makes you smell like an ashtray and taste like a drunk." Her fingers curl my chest hair. "I prefer you sweeter, all pure and faithful like." Her tongue licks the droplets from my skin as her hand molds my cock into that form she demands. Not long after, I begin to want it, to need it even. I perverted to her service, fanning lonely passions and flaming my own twisted need for escape. There was not a crumb of the girl I remembered from before but a whole new monster shaping me to her likeness and I loved her for it._

Bloody hell, I need a drink.

Situations change with the times and now, I feel like retracting my swearing off of past addictions. Besides, it's different now. I'm with him, succumbing to one bad habit. Why not give in to the others? That's what Ethan is, after all, a habit. Not in the sexual sense, that much is new. The companionship, now that is as much a crutch as any drug. He's intoxicating. The very thought of him makes my cock twitch. I want to know what it is to fuck him, make him beg as she did me. I wonder if I should feel shame in that or in the stroke of my hand along my firming flesh in recognition of it.

One appetite satisfied only leads to another and I'm in search of food. My pace is a leisurely one. There's no need for a hunt tonight. I know I haven't far to go to find what I crave for. The halls are deathly quiet. My men lie sprawled out where they fell, sleeping away their drunken festivities and leaving me a calm gangway to wander. I hear the static of the radio clipped to my belt loop and it makes my mind stray from my hunger.

She sounded strong, Buffy did, determined as ever and not easily swayed otherwise. Such heart and soul, I am strangely proud. I don't want them here. I don't want her here, though I thought I did. I know I did. When exactly did that change? I was prepared for her, eager to face her, to taste her before but now it's changed somehow though I know not why. It adds to my restlessness. Something's crawling beneath my skin, familiar but beyond understanding. It makes my gut churn so I'll drown it with the rich wine of death.

There they are, naked and trembling like newborn rats in a laboratory pen. Only ten left, some table scraps barely grasping to life. My boys and their guests dined well last night. I smell the fear and it sets me hard, eager for blood and the screams that are given so easily with it. I tease the padlock with a finger to make it jingle. It's a warning for the cattle to stir and panic in honor of my presence. They reward me with fretful mutterings as I unlock the cage and swing open the gate. The beaten soldiers scurry to all corners, cowering in shadows in dread of the ugly fate they know has come for them. They've been broken well. Cuts, burns, fractures, disconnections, limbs bent to new angles and skin marked to rainbows of colors. I lick my lips, taking my time in choosing.

 _"Tell me you love me."_

I select one with warm chocolate skin and bare shaven head, plump lips pleading for his freedom. The hunger grows feverish as the beast rises.

 _"You know I do."_

He's already pleading, persuading me to take his comrades in his place. It's not cowardice, its survival. I know it well.

 _"Not like that, Ripper, so disconnected and thoughtless. Declare it to me, to the world like you would a pledge."_

I reach down and grip the pretty youth by the neck. He writhes to escape and my hands clamp firmer, fingers curling deeper to separate the straining muscles as he gasps and cries. I lift him easily to his feet and beyond, leaving him dangling uselessly. He claws furiously at my forearm as he begins to choke.

 _"I love you… my light, my dusk, my only Dawn."_

I thrust him against the metal frame, pinning him as the others gasp their unspoken ‘better him than me'. I lean in to examine my prey with the curiosity of a surgeon, wondering which parts to feast on, which parts to play with and which to serve up as a hearty meal for my lovely sorcerer sleeping contentedly across the mall.

 _"You'll have her soon, you know. We're all meant to be together, Rupert. One happy family." She descends, sheathing me and I groan with the misery of the pleasure. The shackles go taut on my wrists, slicing me to bleed. "And I know Buffy will come to love the way you squirm, the way you taste, the way you feel inside her."_

The beast surfaces and I snarl at the soldier who's whimpering delightfully between his sobs. I claw along his already brutalized chest and down to the mote of hairs surrounding his erect cock. They always die as I did. I demand it of them.

 _"As you wish." My will bleeds away as her wicked flesh chokes my insubordinate cock. I would promise her the stars for another mindless nightmare fuck, defiling and deforming me to her perfect beast._

My lips press to his neck as my fangs scrape along the drumming pulse.

 _"Take all that I am and more. Take it all…"_

"Please," he prays softly and I am moved to pause.

"Say it again," I snarl to his ear.

"Please, I'll do anything, just let me live."

I take in his scent with a deep whiff. Piss, sweat, blood and other exciting, humanly juices incite my hunger. It's all right there, waiting for me, inviting me with the rhythm of terror. Yet I can't act.

"Please… please… please…" he starts to repeat, chanting as if worshipping his hope to survive.

Suddenly, I am possessed. My hand loosens and falls to my side as the soldier slumps to his knees, sobbing gratefully for his seconds of reprieve. I hear the beast chastising me, ‘He's ripe. Take him. Have them all. Make them suffer as you suffered as she suffered as you will make them all…'

"Go," I whisper and he looks up with tearful confusion, hesitating. "I won't offer again."

The soldier forces himself to his feet and gestures to the other men, watching me with disbelief. I back away a few steps, giving them space to pass as I restrain the beast. I watch the wounded help the severely injured escape their death row prison, all the while wearing my human mask.

My intended meal, the beautiful dark soldier, looks back as the last of his men makes their way clear of the mall. He mouths a silent, "Thank you." Shame surfaces as he disappears, taking with him all the rations my army had stockpiled.

My fists are clenched so tightly I feel my nails piercing my palm. "What's happening to me?"

 **The Betrayal:**

I'm more relieved then I care to admit when Rupert strolls in at day break. Then again, there really is no day here anymore, only extended night. Even so, I still find myself holding onto the concept, needing a reference for the passing time alone. Too many minutes have slipped by without reason for Rupert's absence and now I feel the need for answers. I quickly steal a peek at him as he makes his way through the aisles toward the bed.

"Where've you been?" I ask, sounding much more like a nagging wife than a bloodthirsty creature of the night.

"Thinking," he mumbles, dragging his feet along as he moves.

"That's more of a what then a where." I sit up to get a better look at him. He looks dreadful, face long and damp but there's no evidence of rain and his clothes look dry. If I didn't know better, I would say it was tears. Is that even possible? "Are you okay?"

"Far from it." Confusion breaks his voice, but the sadness gives me a sinking feeling besides that of his weight bearing down on the edge of the mattress.

"Is this regret I'm seeing?" More than just a small part of me dreads the answer but he only offers a lost look, eyes heavy and drawn. I've seen these eyes before; followed by a turned back and an exit that I tried so hard to hate him for.

"Why the sadness, Ripper?"

"It's grief, Ethan… for a loss."

"Who did you lose?"

"Myself."

"Then your luck is improving. I think I've just found you." The humor dies with his insistently somber expression. "What's happened, then? Out with it."

"When we cast together, was it you alone who conducted the magicks?"

"Poor Rupert, feeling a little useless in the face of…"

He sobers me silent with a grave look. "Spare me your jokes, Ethan. I need the truth. Did I ever hold any power or did you simply tap into my natural energies."

"What do you think drew me to you in the first place? By no means as abundant as my own but you had promise, a raw and vibrant power. But there was the little matter of your pesky principles and unshakable duty and I realized I'd found what I was looking for in the unwilling vessel of a Watcher-in-training. Still, I tried to encourage you towards chaos but rather than nurture your natural talents, you denied them for your bloody calling. Had you stayed with me, we could have ruled the world, Ripper."

"But I don't want to rule the world, Ethan. I only want to share a measly speck of it."

"And you've taken it." My hand massages along his broad back, hoping to persuade him into joining me. I know I can get his mind off whatever's troubling him. "The city is yours."

"I don't want it."

"What do you mean you don't want it?"

He stares at the floor and wallows within his thoughts. "I'm sorry."

That takes me by surprise. "For what?"

"For killing you. For killing that girl the night you fed for the first time. For ripping the flesh of virtuously blinded soldiers who never have a chance. For murdering an inexperienced Slayer and wounding an old friend in doing it. For being what I've become and what I've made of you. Ethan, I couldn't be more sorry."

I push off the bed, stumbling clumsily as it finally comes to me. "Chaos! It's gotten into you."

"You said it yourself, always had it. Just took you to awaken it within me."

"No!" I shake my head, cursing myself for ever having touched him. "Maybe it'll pass. Maybe it's like a cold and you'll get over it?"

"It's returning, Ethan. I can feel the remorse creeping inside like… like some vile infection. I don't know whether to welcome it or refuse it." For the first time since our youths, I see fear in his eyes. "They won't rest. Ethan… the faces of the many I've… Their blood stains… they won't… my lord, what have I done?" his mumblings trail off as my mind races.

"For fucks sake, Rupert, what do we do now? I'm a eunuch of a vampire, barely manage a nibble on your ear let alone feed a proper portion."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, you git!" I yell, furious with him, with me, with chaos, with karma. Serves me right, I suppose. I should have known that it could come to this. I struggle to collect my tempter and shrug helplessly. "So what now?"

He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head as I await an answer I see he doesn't have for me. Without warning, he leaps to his feet and looks determinedly out the nearest window to the darkened sky.

"We have to end this."

I don't like the sound of that. "End what?"

"They must be stopped."

"Come now, let's not be too hasty."

"We haven't much time." He rubs his chin, contemplating a plan.

"Maybe they won't notice anything different, Ripper."

"Their numbers are growing. More will come."

"We can lay back a bit, take the less proactive role in the goings-on. Let your undead loyalists handle the dirty deeds while we reap the benefits."

"They have weapons stockpiles and a network of informants spreading north."

"Or perhaps we should just go? Leave them to their…"

He whips around, startling me quiet.

"Ethan, I can't." He's still apologizing but now I see that stubborn duty… that miserable wretch of a Watcher and I suddenly feel both betrayed and oddly relieved. I am not so alone in my pitiful compassion now but it seems more a curse than a blessing. "I did this. I must undo it."

"Why?" I plead, gripping his shoulder and trying to shake some sense into him. "Look around you, Rupert. You're a bloody king here. You'll be sacrificing all this, and for what? You're still a vampire, a monster."

"Yes, I am. But I don't have to act like one." His hand cups my cheek as his thumb drifts tenderly along my lips. "And neither do you."

It takes only a second for me to fall prey to his charm and I nestle invitingly into his hand, blanketing it with my own. "Sod it, Ripper. Where do we begin?"

I take up my pants and slip them on.

"We bring back the…"

"Fucking traitor! I trusted you!" A familiar voice growls before the faces shape from the shadows. Jacobs steps forward with ten plus heavily armed men. "I would have followed you to the ends of the earth and beyond but it wasn't enough, was it?"

In a blink of an eye, Rupert goes from man to beast, rushing to attack. Rifle fire shatters the air and Rupert's riddled with bullets discharging from three of his loyal soldier's weapons. I begin an enchantment with frenzied words only to find myself flanked by five men. All have eager trigger fingers, their rifles aimed at point blank range warning me to remain still and silent. The eruption of gunfire ceases and Rupert collapses to his knees. His blood slops to the floor. I lunge towards him only to have rifles impede my advance. Jacobs shakes his head disapprovingly and struts toward his wounded commander. Rupert growls and glances over at me, eyes blazing yellow.

"You don't deserve to wear that face. I think I'll peel it off." The young man threatens. "You're barely a vampire now, contaminated by magicks and your… your pathetic feelings for that… that freak!" If Jacobs' pointed hand were a pistol, I'd feel the bullet ripping through my heart with the accusation.

Jacobs orders two of the men with a gesture and they heave Rupert upright by his arms, holding him trapped between them, bleeding and hurting. The young soldier grasps a fistful of Rupert's hair and forces back his head, daring him to look him in the eye.

"This nation you founded, it will survive with or without you." He slips a stake from his belt and tears Rupert's sodden shirt open, reveling a smattering of pulpy wounds. "I'd say you've made the choice a rather easy one. Without you, it is."

"Ethan, go!" Rupert coughs, silenced by the butt of a rifle to his gut. I stare wide-eyed as the stake slowly sinks in to pierce his skin. "Now!" He roars and the magicks snap and congeal around me. I hear the thunder of gunfire and feel the searing metal burst through my chest. Then I'm gone in fates brilliant light.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Truce:**

"Which way now, Will?" Xander asks, keeping watch down the narrow streets and alleyways.

I close my eyes and concentrate, reaching out to feel the atmosphere of energies invisible but flowing around us like a stream. Suddenly there's a vortex forming in the current, irregular and choppy. It's a disturbance I've come to recognize.

"Ethan's coming," I warn and prepare. I feel him before I see him, charged tendrils of wild essence stretching out to announce him. Instinctively, my hands rise, charging a damper field to restrain his talents as best I can. He won't take us by surprise this time.

"I'd wave a white flag if I had one," he calls out from the alley, sensing my counter magicks. "Would a soiled shred of newspaper suffice?" He approaches slowly, moving into view with a red stained and crumpled newspaper wagging in his hand.

"Looks like blood to me." Xander readies his pistol and takes aim.

"It's my own, I assure you."

"Good," Buffy grumbles, stake gripped securely in her fist.

He's sweating profusely and trembling, half naked and hurting. Looks like withdrawals or symptoms of overextended magicks.

"How did you find us?" Xander asks, pointing steadily at Ethan's head.

"How else?" He winks at me.

"Tracking magicks," I explain. "Same way I find him."

"Good girl." He smiles briefly then his expression gives way to seriousness as he addresses Buffy. "They have your Watcher."

"My Watcher is dead."

"Bugger the incidentals. They have Rupert."

"Who is they?" Xander asks, edging closer.

"Those fangy types you lot have been five paces behind all this time." He shifts in his spot and cringes, bracing his arm further across his torso.

"That's it, give me a reason," Xander threatens, closing the distance to press the barrel of the gun to Ethan's temple. The sorcerer shoos the weapon away with his free hand, more irritated than intimidated.

"If you haven't noticed, Sonny, I'm already donning the aftereffects of such hostilities. You're daft to think that little pee shooter of yours is of any concern at this point?" Ethan hunches forward and I see blood trickle down to splatter the cement.

"You're shot?" I ask.

"I thought you're the brainy one." He chuckles and winces with pain in punishment for it.

"Who shot you?" Buffy asks, confused.

"That would be the same lads holding Rupert hostage. I'm surprised they've kept him alive. Well, not alive exactly. I mean… bloody hell, you know what I mean." He withers a little with every frustrated word, as if exerting so much effort to speak.

"How do you know he's still alive or whatever?" Xander questions and Ethan directs a knowing glance to me and smiles.

"You sense it, don't you?"

"What's he talking about, Willow ?" Buffy asks.

"Just as you can with me."

There is something, like a whisper beneath the energies swarming between us. It's faint but it's there. "What is it?"

"It's him," Ethan assures me and I can't believe it, though I want to so badly.

"No, it can't be." Denial is my only defense to hope.

"What can't be, Willow ? Talk to me," Buffy pleads.

"It's Rupert," Ethan sighs, as if it should be obvious. "Seems chaos has a sense of humor and a rather good memory."

"I don't get it." Buffy is growing irritated with the vague answers and I don't know how much I should reveal of what little I think I know.

"So it's the chaos magicks? That's what makes you different then the other vampires?"

"Different… now that's a colorful understatement. Uncertain, weak and pathetic, perhaps."

I shake my head. "Merciful, compassionate…"

"Bloody useless is what it makes me. And now, what it's making of him."

"If blotting out the sun is useless, I'd hate to see you useful," Xander says.

"That's why I'm here."

"Why do I sense a let's-make-a-deal coming?"

"He wants to set things right."

"Like I haven't heard this before from every other wannabe dictator demon," Buffy scoffs.

"I may be able to fix it… the sun. But only if you help me free Rupert."

"I don't help vampires."

"Oh, but you'll shag them. That's…."

"Convenient." A stranger's voice finishes and in seconds we're surrounded by vampires, more than twenty of them, all armed. "Never fucked a Slayer. I hear it's like sushi, something I should try at least once."

Gunfire erupts as Ethan hobbles forward. With a phrase, he ignites a wall of light separating Xander and him from Buffy and me. The barrier is sound for the moment, managing to divide the street from the alleyway. I throw bolts of energies, blasting demon after demon to go crashing into abandoned cars, chain link fences, and the rubble of broken buildings. There are just too many to keep track of but I fight off every one I can reach.

I see Buffy charging after the leader. But he's quickly reinforced by others so she refocuses. Good call. After dodging sporadic gunfire, she vaults off a rusty car and comes down with a windmill kick, striking one then another of the beasts, knocking them off balance. She spins, taking turns dusting each with her trademark weapon. It's amazing how quickly she regroups. Two more vampires disintegrate around her skillfully guided stake.

I set a trio of the vamps ablaze and hurry away from open space to find cover from the increasing barrage of gunfire. I hope Buffy is doing the same. It takes me a moment to spot her again but I do just in time to see a bullet strike her shin. Buffy yelps as her leg gives out. She tumbles to the street and is immediately swallowed up by the horde of vampires. The last thing I hear from somewhere under the pile of beasts is her determined order, "Get them out!"

My instinct is to disregard the command and fight to get to her but the vampires numbers are growing. I glance back to see Ethan's barrier is taking a beating with the storm of bullets ricocheting from it. It's weakening with each hit and at the rate I'm casting, I won't have anything left for an escape. I shuffle backwards, getting as close to Xander and the sorcerer as the dying barrier will allow.

"She's lost," Ethan shouts over the ruckus.

"No!" Xander screams, firing off clip after clip. Vampires dust with every shot, never touching ground as they leap over the barricade.

Ethan calls out, "We have work to do. Get us…" A bullet strikes his temple, spraying Xander with blood, bone and flesh. I watch Ethan's eyes roll back to white and he buckles lifeless to the red splattered ground. The wall is breeched and I feel panic with the ensuing chaos. In a hail of gunfire, roars of charging beasts and Xander's refusal to abandon Buffy… we disappear with my terrified words.

 **The Plan:**

I hear stifled voices, as if under water, and concentrate on them. Every thought hurts and movement is nearly impossible.

"I found a small radio transistor hidden in a pocket of his jeans." It's the boy. The witch must have gotten clear as well. "Smashed it to bits and tossed it one building over."

My mind gradually separates the pain from the hunger sickness. I feel a right mess and likely look the part.

"That must be how they found us so quickly," the witch responds.

It takes a moment for me to coax my body into the motion I want from it. My head aches and I feel and feverish.

"They must have tagged him," she decides. Fucking soldiers, I should have known. "Guess they didn't trust him."

"He was probably in on the whole thing, bringing them right to us."

"Indeed, all part of my brilliant plan to capture you with my incredible exploding head trick." I finally persuade my arm to lift towards my head and cringe as my fingers glide along the rim of the raw wound at my temple. The touch sparks a bolt of pain throughout my body. My fingertip dips within to assess the damage and is greeted by the surreal landscape of brutalized tissues. I've never easily stomached those graphic horror films but somehow I manage to keep myself together, even with my insides oozing on the outside. Sometimes I really despise being dead. "Went rather swimmingly, wouldn't you agree?"

"Damn. I thought you were dead," I hear the boy huff.

"Quite deceased, thank you."

I force myself to sit up by bracing against a nearby wall and realize my legs are dead. There is sensation in them, much like that in my injured head, but they refuse to move. Must be that undead healing or perhaps the magicks are battling to keep me stitched together. I guess chaos isn't through with its degenerate son. I use my arms to settle myself more comfortably against the wall and take a moment to examine our surroundings. We're inside a building undergoing renovation, or at least it was until the city fell. The grumpy one approaches and I notice he's covered in gore, most likely my own, and I can't help but smile.

"You're only sore you didn't get the chance to take the shot yourself. Even so, I look smashing on you."

"Shut up," the boy curses. He raises his pistol and thunders towards me, all threatening and brave and quite daring with the eye patch.

"This isn't helping!" The witch steps between us. The flicker of temper is delightful. She kneels down to examine my wounds with all the gentleness of a hellhound. "These will heal, right?"

"At a slower rate than other vampires, in my somewhat limited experience." I wince with one not-so-tender prod of her fingers and capture her wrist, holding her close to me. The hunger in my gut reminds me of another necessity yet to be met. "Though there is one way to hurry along the healing process. Care to volunteer?"

"Let her go!" The dashing pirate's pistol presses to my unblemished temple. "Unless you want a matching set."

"Back down!" my nurse orders, much to her knight's objection. "Its okay, Xander. We need him." She brings her wrist in closer. "Take only what you need, not one drop more or I'll suck you dry and I know you know what I mean." And I do and wickedly consider pressing my luck just for the sensation.

"Willow, no! You can't be serious!"

I smile and for some reason can't stop myself from saying, "If you're offering to take her place…"

"Shut up, both of you!"

I oblige, wondering if she is as delicious as her temper.

"We need him whole if we're going to reverse the spell."

"I'm not so sure that's what he really wants."

"Oh, you're absolutely right. It's not at all what I want," I say in all honesty. "I want to be waited on hand and foot; to eat, drink and be merry… very merry," I wink salaciously at the cyclops. "But just this once, it's not about me. It's what Rupert wants."

"And you're oh so willing to just bend over and take it?"

"Again and again. Wouldn't you be?"

"Way ew! Someone scour my brain." He throws his hands up and wanders away in desperation. His revulsion is lovely.

"What part of ‘shut up' don't you two understand?" Willow barks and hushes me with her wrist to my lips.

" Willow !" Xander objects again only to be silenced by a look.

"I know what I'm doing? I've done this before."

She keeps her eyes on her friend and I feel my features shift. This triggers the pirate's pistol to return, ready to dispatch me with the slightest of missteps. If a kindly wound were ever possible it's what I attempt as I puncture the skin and tap the vein with surprisingly accuracy. After all, I'm still quite the amateur. But I don't wish to fail this one in her generosity. As she pours down my throat, my body begins to pulse with her pulse. She tastes of strawberries and power… this one. If only we'd met years before.

"What do you mean you've done this before? For who?" It's obvious Xander is startled by the admission and I continue drinking as the entertaining drama unfolds before me. The sorceress winces from time to time and I try to gentle my feeding… more suckling than savage.

"Like it matters now. It was… seems like a lifetime ago." She responds without responding. Good for her.

"Don't tell me it was…" He goes mute mid-sentence and I am oddly put out by it. I haven't a clue why I should even care. Neither of us gets any more an answer than a pleading look to drop the subject. As if by some psychic bond, the young man suddenly seems to know and shakes his head with disapproval. She escapes his judgment by looking at me, realizing for the first time I've changed. It quickens her pulse, verging on panic and I retract, not wishing to frighten her.

"No, it's okay. Really. I'm sorry… it's just…" She sighs, almost embarrassed. "I never get used to seeing that... the change, you know?"

I smile, returning to my preferred presentation, or as best as I can figure it, and begin to bandage her up with a nearby first aid kit her thoughtful protector supplied.

"I feel fine if you need more…"

"It'll be enough, Willow ," I reassure her. My legs shudder as I demand them to move, returning slowly back to usable. It should be enough. "Thank you."

"Can you do it? Can you free the sun?" She asks and I shrug.

"That's the dilemma, isn't it? We haven't any of the supplies necessary to break the spell entirely. But perhaps with your help, we could weaken the magicks binding the spell, causing it to become unstable."

"Guess that makes sense, with chaos being all chaosy to begin with. We just need to encourage it a little and it should do the rest for us."

"Make no mistake, it will take an enormous amount of energies to set if off balance. And not those pure, virgin white magicks you're used to, love. I deal in the darker shades."

Her lips curl to an intriguingly confident smile. "I can hold my own."

"Um… guys…" Xander calls from a window, eyes peering downward.

"What is it?" Willow asks.

"You better come take a look at this."

Willow helps me to my feet and I'm pleased to find my legs with strength enough to make the short journey across the room. We join Xander and look out to the landscape below.

"Looks like something's going on at the local neighborhood drive-in."

Vampires in mass, nearly a hundred, are spilling out into the barren parking lot.

"Chance may be smiling on us. Now seems a good a time as any to break that spell, don't you think?" I suggest.

"Just tell me what you need." Willow is so very eager for instruction.

 **The Toll:**

A faint wind brushes along my lips as consciousness returns. I hear the droning mutterings of a crowd coming from all angles and smell the tell-tale scent of death that is inescapable in the company of vampires. A squawking crow tells me I'm outside.

My eyes crack open to discover I'm lying on my back, facing skyward with a hazy view. It takes a moment for my vision to clear, revealing the glowing halo of the blackened sun intensifying through the clouds. I close my eyes and concentrate. I feel him and my chaos stirring with his evocation. It's subtle but its there. The sky will soon open to drench me in sunlight.

I shift slightly and feel my hand is shackled to something. When I glance over, I find Buffy on the other end of a short and sturdy chain. She sits no more than three feet from me, hugging her leg to her chest and resting her chin on her knee. The other leg is stretched out before her, wounded and bleeding. The stimulating bouquet of her torn flesh reminds me of my unsatisfied hunger and I fight off my ravenous urges, attempting to refocus my attentions on our situation.

We are centered in the open expanse of what looks to be a parking lot. A large audience of vampires surrounds us but at a distance. All seem oblivious to the changing heavens. With our injuries, we'll be no match for there numbers.

The crowd cheers as a solitary figure steps out to join Buffy and I. It's my second in command and I force myself to sit upright with his approach.

"See now, this is touching," he says as he stops a short distance from us, enough to avoid any surprise attacks, "Slayer and Watcher together again. Kinda gets me right here." He gives his chest a pat where his heart would beat were he alive.

"You must be Buffy. Rupert's told me so much about you that I feel like I know you." She doesn't bother responding, only stares forward, meditating to regain her strength. Gone are the self-assured puns I remember, the witty retorts of a successful Slayer. How she's changed. Haven't we all?

"Speaking of my fearless leader, how are you doing, Rupert?"

"Never better," I say with quiet defiance.

"Ah, well… let's see what we can do about that, shall we?" He smiles and turns away, "I'll be back in a moment but for now, my public awaits."

He marches towards the densest grouping of vampires and begins a rousing speech, "They intend to take our city away, to defeat our conquering nation." The crowd of beasts roars its displeasure.

"We've challenged their best yet we are the ones that stand victorious and proud." Cheers echo the pride being expressed.

"It's true we've suffered great losses. Many have fallen in the battle to secure these grounds; many brave and honorable beasts… our brothers and our sisters." Jacobs glances back over his shoulder to stare disappointedly at me. "Most distressing of all, they've managed to corrupt someone I thought beyond reproach. I'm afraid the founding father of our revolution has turned weak and disloyal. They've forced us to deal with him as we would an enemy." He retrieves a stake from his belt and thrusts it high, as if to pierce the air. The dramatic action inspires the crowd's enthusiasm for justice. "But I swear to you his sacrifice will not be in vain. His dust will not be without cause."

I grow bored and decide to take advantage of the distraction, testing the chain with a tug and trying to draw Buffy's attention to me. She sits motionless and with unyielding focus.

"The spell is waning," I whisper. "The sun is returning."

"I know." I'm almost surprised she bothered to respond at all but the bitterness in her tone tells me more of her hatred for me than I care to know.

Jacobs retrieves a radio and addresses all who may be listening, "Council and Initiative forces… we have your Slayer, Buffy Summers, and her former Watcher. I could kill them now, if I wished it. But seeing as how I am a sporting man, you have an hour to try your hand at recovering them. After an hours time, we will do what you couldn't and rid you of your prime target as well as your mightiest warrior once and for all."

"He's using us as bait to lure more drop teams," I say quietly to Buffy.

"I know." Again, so bitter, as if the blame lies with me and perhaps it should. After all, Jacobs is my brightest boy. One who's learned my lessons well.

'Strike the heart and the body will follow.'

Buffy's stony revulsion with being near me makes me grow frail and useless, contented to accept the possible coming of my oblivion. I'm curious if the scarce chaos energies I have will provide any protection from the sun. Perhaps they will only offer enough time to realize the pain, suffer the slow searing of the skin with each boiling degree. Would that satisfy my Slayers thirst for vengeance, I wonder. Only time will tell. So I sit waiting, strapped to the young lady who was once my charge, my child, my burden and joy. All I can think of is the sad state of affairs that lead us to this moment. All I can see is the ghostly image of a young girl we both loved more dearly than either of us can express, powdered and carried away with the winds.

"The game is set and the move is yours." Jacobs concludes his challenge to his enemy forces and returns the radio to his belt as he approaches.

"Well, that ought to just about do it." He smiles confidently. "I'm sure you two have much to talk about." He glances over at Buffy with false sympathy. "Or perhaps talking isn't what this calls for. Feel free to entertain the boys with a display of aggression. There's enough bad blood between you to make things interesting, I'm sure. Oh well, I'll leave you to it."

He turns and walks away to rejoin the crowd which begins to shout out for violence. And though we are surrounded by a mob of rowdy, bloodthirstily beasts, I feel as if we are more alone in each others company than ever before.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Word:**

The radio gets all static-like and I finally relax, dropping it away from my ear. I check over my shoulder and notice that Willow and Rayne didn't seem to hear it. Good! They didn't need to. Let the demons threaten all they want. Let them brag about their prisoners all they want. It changes nothing. We have a job to do and we're going to do it. It's what Buffy wants.

The sky looks strange, like a solar eclipse trapped under a blanket of clouds. The huge swarm of vampires in the lot below is growing, like ants invading a picnic. If this plan works, we could be dusting the entire vampire population of Los Angeles in one clean sweep. Good riddins! Then I could finally get home to Sam, where I belong.

Thinking of her suddenly makes me nervous. I begin to pace along the rooftop ledge, practically bouncing in my boots as Willow and Rayne continue their chanting. I've never felt so useless, listening to words I don't understand being spoken by my best friend and a sorcerer vampire I don't trust as far as I could stake him. Uncomfortable doesn't begin to describe it.

I watch them work it for a moment, wondering if I could even tell if something was going wrong… like if Willow went all veiny again or if Rayne tried to hurt her somehow. But they look like they're playing nice together, speaking in tongues together, each centered in their weird zones of concentration. I so don't get it.

Then it dawns on me that Rayne is glowing… well, flickering anyway, like one of gramps dollar store light bulbs. Willow is another story. She is radiant, beautiful with a consistent iridescent haze swirling around her. I look up to see the clouds grow a little brighter with each completed chant. For a microsecond, I consider interrupting the odd couple engaging in tag-team casting to inform them of the unscheduled radio programming announcement but as far as I can tell, whatever they're doing is working and I don't wanna monkey-wrench their mojo. What good would it do now, anyway? As I see it, if the spell is broken, here comes the sun and ashes all vamps caught unawares, leaving Buffy a front row seat at the dust bowl. Not such a bad plan, even if the Rayne man doesn't get his end of the bargain. I'll help him get over it with the business end of a stake.

Yeah, I'm doing the right thing.

Suddenly, Ethan breaks out from his trance-like state, pushes himself to his feet, and rushes frantically over to the ledge.

"What?" I ask, backing away just a little, unsure what the sorcerer was preparing to do.

"He's down there," Ethan growls, eyes searching the crowds.

"What?" Willow comes out of her concentration and joins him at the rooftop ledge. I back away a little more, wishing I could slip into the shadows.

"Rupert is out there, in the center of the crowd."

"I think that's Buffy with him," Willow says.

"But that's a check in the plus column, right?" I say as innocently as I can. "Means if you guys hit pay dirt with the unveiling spell, then the Buffster is sitting pretty for a tan."

Willow looks worriedly at Ethan and I'll be damned if she asks the question I'd hoped she wouldn't. "But if the sun… what about the chaos magicks… does he…"

"I don't know," Ethan interrupts anxiously. "He's nothing close to what I'm capable of."

"You can't stop now. We'll never get another chance like this," I urge them and get a glare from Rayne. "I mean, we have a pond full of sitting ducks out there."

"Rupert is one of those ducks, boy!" Ethan barks.

"Yeah, well… does he have sunscreen?" I shrug.

"This wasn't part of the deal," he snarls, storming after me with fury in his black eyes.

"Tell you what…" I hold my hands up passively as I back away, hating being forced to compromise with this gutter trash, "I'll take care of it."

"How?" Willow asks, hurrying over to try and step between us.

"I dunno. I just will, okay?"

Rayne continues after me and finally, I lose my patience and draw my pistol, aiming it square at his heart. He stops, eyes narrowing to read my resolved face.

"How many holes will it take to convince you, chaos chump? You know I'm ready and willing."

"Xander, no!" Willow objects.

"I'm telling you I will handle it," I repeat very slowly and very clearly as the barrel of the pistol dimples the battered skin of the sorcerer's chest. "You have my word." Whatever good that is.

"I'll remember that, Xander." The way he says my name sends a chill up my spine that I try hard to ignore. That together with his black-shifting-yellow-shifting-back-to-black eyes is enough to set me in motion toward the exit.

"Be careful, Xander." Willow hollers and I couldn't be more grateful to hear a concerned voice following the sorcerer's threat.

"Hey… it's me!" I flash a smile and a nonchalant shrug then rush down the stairway.

 **The Beginning:**

"Think they want us to fight to the death or something," Buffy mumbles and runs her fingers through her hair, not daring so much as a stray glance to me.

"I believe that is their intention." I look over expectantly at her, wondering if that's what she wants, to end it here and now in one finale glorious battle between Slayer and vampire. I could give it to her if she truly wished it.

"Fuck ‘em!" she says with a defiant spirit that brings a smirk to my lips.

"My feeling exactly."

"They'll kill us anyway."

"Undoubtedly."

"Maybe we can bore them to death."

"One can only hope."

There is a long pause and I find myself missing the spontaneous banter that had sparked between us. She looks as if she wants to say something more but doesn't. Instead, she takes to idly nudging her boot against some pebbles on the pavement. In another attempt at distraction, she determinedly works her fingertips along a crease in her jeans in trying to straighten it. Then, I see her face bow forward to rest on her knee, surrendering to her stern silence again. I watch my shoe inch along the cement, corralling pebbles into a small pile.

"You're still a monster."

"So I've been told." I have no sanctimonious sermons left to give, shamed to silence with her verdict.

There's another long pause as she traces the outer edge of the metal clamp on her wrist.

"I think I may be one, too."

I would apologize if I thought it could bring her some peace. But I know better than to ask forgiveness from those unwilling to give it. Besides, I don't deserve it and never could.

"Everyone is these days, I suppose," I bargain.

"Yeah, I guess." She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I don't want be one anymore."

I know the feeling.

"Reflections," I remind her gently. Now is not the time for ‘I told you so' or pettily won satisfactions. I simply want her to understand.

"Not sure I want the opinion of the evil dead right now but thanks anyway."

"Wasn't an opinion, more of an observation about us both. Besides, knowledge knows neither good nor evil."

"Its how you use it. I get that." She finally looks over at me, begging honesty. "So are you good or evil?"

I stare gently at her, offering her a chance to see into my soul or whatever has taken residence there. "That's for you to decide."

"I'm sick of being the one who has to make that decision." She shakes her head and examines the crowd for a moment. The clouds are thinning with every passing minute and she squints from the increasing brightness.

"She loved you, Giles."

It takes a moment to register what's been said. But when I hear her say the name I'd nearly forgotten since my death, it brings a tear to my eye that evaporates before given a chance at freedom.

"Dawn told me so a few weeks before she came to LA. Father's day was coming and she'd gotten you a card. One of those real tear-jerker, half a box of tissues, weeping Hallmarks. She was way proud she'd found just the right one. Said it took her over an hour at the shop but she knew she was getting warmer with every card. Lo and behold, there it was… * the* card, * your* card." Buffy smiles with the recollection and it pleases me more than I have a right to. But the happiness vanishes as quickly as it came and she continues on in a quiet, hurting tone. "She gave it to me to mail to you but I never did. I was still angry over…" She pauses, considering. "God, I can't even remember what the argument was about."

"Branch office being opened in…"

" Las Vegas … that's right. Man, we would fight about anything, wouldn't we?"

"My favorite being the heated debate involving pencils verses pens in regards to the Times crossword puzzles."

"I still say there is no disgrace in using pencil." Her snicker melts into sigh.

"Agreed." I lean back to absorb the impending sun. "It's beautiful."

"What?"

"The sun."

"Yeah, we shoulda enjoyed it more."

"Yes, we should've."

A breeze tangles through her hair. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"So am I." For what goes unsaid because the details don't matter anymore. Our mutual forgiveness adds enough weight to our words and I am more contented than I would have thought possible.

The crowd grows restless and I wonder if they notice the temperature changing as I do. It won't be long now.

She tosses a stone at her shoe and smiles sadly. "We were good, you know?"

"Yes," I smile. ", we were."

It comes in a manner more befitting a natural disaster than an atmospheric alteration. In a brilliant burst, the sky erupts with sunlight, evaporating every shade of gray inhabiting the blue above. I hear panicked howls as Buffy and I are suddenly trapped within a frenzied ring of fire. Demons are set ablaze by the cleansing illumination. It's both glorious and miserable as I watch beasts I once befriended burn to cinders and ash.

"They did it." Buffy winces only for a moment as she works to get to her feet. Her head falls back, admiring the sky with a welcome smile.

"Good man," I whisper congratulations to Ethan wherever he is. It's blinding, humbling me to divert my unworthy eyes. Then the skin of my exposed chest and hands begins to smolder as the chaos quiets to no more than a murmur within. The irony of my blistering flesh stings yet I manage a smile. I struggle to my feet to join Buffy in her appreciation of the days return, determined to face my fate standing by her side.

"Tell them I'm sorry." I hope it's not too much to ask. She owes me nothing.

Buffy's eyes go wide in witnessing my roasting. Thickening wisps of smoke rise up to mask her face from me. The pain is luminous, flesh sparking into flame. And as the light torches me toward darkness, my thoughts are of Ethan and all fades to black on the memory of his smile.

 **The Choice:**

One minute, the man who would be king monster sits at my side, listening patiently to my babblings, showing me all the understanding I remember from my mentor before. The next minute, I see him burning, green eyes staring apologetically as they disappear behind a billow of smoke and flames. At that moment, I'm torn between celebrating and grieving as the demon meets his punishment by sunlight.

I hear a mechanical sound in the clutter of inhuman screams coming from the ring of fire surrounding us. I realize it's the sound of an engine and the squeal of tires as a truck plows through the dusting wall of vampires and barrels down on us. Brakes screech, sending the truck veering sideways as it comes to a wobbly halt and casts a short stretch of shade enough to shield Giles from certain death. The cab door swings open and Xander hops out, vigilantly securing the location. His gaze falls to the scorched figure lying unconscious and helpless at my feet, wrist still chained to mine.

"Took you long enough." I smirk.

"Sorry Buff, hit a bit of traffic and the potholes around here must be relations of the Sunnydale sinkhole."

"Where's Willow ?" I hope she's alright.

"She's still with Rayne."

"So they did this together?"

"Yeah, high marks all around." His eye never leaves Giles.

"So I guess Ethan wasn't lying then."

"Nope, guess not." He says distractedly. Giles groans, revealing white fangs within a face of black. Xander retrieves his pistol and takes aim at Giles' chest. "Too bad I was."

"Deal breaker, huh?" I'm not surprised.

"Just completing our mission."

"Is that what you're going to tell Ethan?" I barely sound as if I care.

"Does it matter? He'll get the same. Same as all of ‘em, right? Wasn't this your plan the second you saw Rayne anyway?" He gestures towards Giles with his pistol. "Do what it takes to get to Mister Big, here, and then show them both some Slayer justice? Then you, me and Willow go back to a heroes welcome and wait for the next batsignal of impending doom. All in a days work for the Scooby's."

"Yeah, guess it was." I admit it honestly.

"Well, I for one, happen to like that plan. Full supporter of the ‘one-less-baddie' maneuver. I mean, it's not like we can let them go, two magicks-a-packin vampires with long lists of massacres between them just strolling off into the sunset like a couple of redeemable outlaws?"

"Why not?" I'm not arguing, I'm asking. Not sure I know the answers any more. Xander's mouth drops open, appalled.

"You know damn well why not!" His pistol sways above the unconscious vampire.

As if somehow sensing the danger he's in, the beast retracts, leaving behind the wounded features of the man we're haunted by. For a second, I see sadness in Xander but then it's gone.

"Regardless of the face he's wearing, that *thing* lying there is a vampire… a vampire that's done many very bad things. It's your job to take out the bad vampire so he can't be bad again. It's what you do, what you've always done. And as always, Buffy, it's your calling, so it's you're call."

"Not anymore." It's a vow. I won't be their executioner any longer. I won't be the Council's monster anymore.

He's in shock. With a shake to clear his head, he barks out, "Fine! You're not willing to do what needs to be done here, then I will… again!"

The gun hovers over Giles' chest, just above his heart and I know the vampire is seconds from permanent death. I recognize the lethal look in Xander's eye. It's the same one he wore after discovering his Slayer dead by Giles' bite, the very same one he wore as he thrust the stake into Dawn, finally putting her to rest. I wouldn't blame him for doing it. He's earned the right to suffer revenge. Though I can't help the pity I feel for all involved.

Xander flinches and I see him battling between hate for the monster and memories of the love he once held for the man. It's not my place to stop him but instead to be his witness or his friend. I give him the choice I was forced to make most of my life. I give him his moment to play god while I stand silently chained to the beast he intends to slay. His finger tenses, compressing the trigger a splinter before squeezing it tightly. A single deafening shot fires, echoing around us.

I stare at him for a long moment before my lips curl to a smile.

"Thank you," I say softly.

"Thank * you* ," he says genuinely, returning the pistol to the holster and kneeling down to brush away the remnants of the chain that once bound Giles to me. "Little help?"

I limp over to help Xander heave Giles within the cab of the truck. Neither of us is sure of our grip or our movements as we manage to hoist him up on the seat edge.

"What are we doin', here?" He asks as our shoves elicit a muffled growl from the unconscious vampire.

"I don't know." I shrug helplessly. "Never really do."

Xander helps me into the cab and we work to scrunch in as best we can. Giles shifts, his head falling to rest on my shoulder and I feel myself tense at the unwanted closeness. With a nudge, I send him leaning the other way against the window. I still don't trust him. I don't think I ever will.

"If they stayed put, Willow and Ethan should be on the roof of the Union Gospel two blocks down."

"A church?"

"Yeah, part of it. Keeps them outta reach of vampires while they cast. I guess chaos is the cure-all for houses of the holy."

"Ethan never was the god fearing sort." I chuckle at the thought.

"If you ask me, everyone could use a little fear of fill-in-your-chosen-deity here. Keeps you behaving." Xander starts up the truck and glances over at me. "Maybe we should just dust Ethan. He's always been a bad influence on Giles."

I notice smoke rising from the side of Giles' face exposed to the sunlit glass. I pull him in to rest against my shoulder, safe from the sun.

"Not this time." I remind him.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Dawn:**

I stare at the cracked plaster of the ceiling, my body objecting to every movement, every thought of action. Stricken again by the magicks fatigue, I'm left at the mercy of Rupert's adopted children. I can hear them, even in this room meant to lock us away. They're discussing what's to become of us. I can't make out their words but I can hear the anxiety in their voices, the anger and the frustration and know whatever their choice, it won't be pleasant. A subtle moan draws my attention to Rupert who lies not too far from me, trying to reposition. He's already begun to heal, hands nearly normal again though his face took the brunt of the damage.

"You survived then, Watcher?" I call out, feigning indifference.

"If you can call it that, barely passable as charcoal, really. How'd you fare, sorcerer?"

"Don't ask. Rather feel like road kill." I sigh and force myself sideways to get a better look at him. My eyes clamp shut from pain as muscles knot the entire length of my body. When I open my eyes, I find Rupert's staring concernedly at me, face burnt and bruised yet still so irretrievably tempting.

"Thank you," he says softly.

"For what?" I wince as a tinge of pain returns to punish my shifting leg.

"For everything." He smiles and reaches out to caress my cheek. I'd welcome his touch with a kiss if I wouldn't be penalized for trying.

I settle for a sincere smile. "Still singing my praises, Watcher?"

"Were it not for you, I'd have no voice to do so."

Upon further consideration, "Actually, I'm fairly certain your current condition and possible undoing was entirely my fault. Don't get me wrong, glad it didn't turn out that way. I happen to be rather fond of your voice," I lean into his touch, cursing the pain away, "Among other things."

Rupert leans in to kiss me but I retreat before he manages so much as a single brush of my lips. I fall back with a grunt and stare up to the decrepit ceiling above.

"So this'll be it then?" I ask plainly. "For all the bloody drama, it comes back to you and me and the beginning of the end."

"Not sure I follow you, Ethan."

"That's the bloody point, isn't it? It's changed again. With the return of your hopeless moral superiority, I suppose you'll be pursuing an interest in your previous employment? Righting past wrongs and all that useless rot."

A weighty sigh prefaces his response, admitting he's at least considered it. "I'm not that man anymore. But you're right, things have changed. And my place with them died away long before I did."

"Don't think they'll take you back with open arms, eh? Rather speciest of them, if you ask me." I snicker and he fails to find the humor in the jest.

"They'll have questions left unanswered with the defeat of my… of the vampires. After they've collected the necessary details on the operation, I assume we're to be released into Council custody or perhaps handed over to the Initiative."

"Full bloody circle," I grumble and shake my head, damning the bastard magicks that bring my body the sharp sting up my spine. "You know I won't go back there. I can't."

"I know."

"Then you're willing to turn a blind eye if I were to simply vanish?"

"Don't be daft. You can barely move. You're hardly capable of teleportation after the spell today. I remember the last time…"

"Rupert…" I interrupt his objection with a sideways glance. "I died in that cell. It was my choice and I accepted it. And yes, in my current condition the magicks will likely shred me to bits but it's a risk more appealing than eternity in a cage and it is again my choice to make."

He pushes himself upright and crawls over to me, fighting against his own fatigue and pains to conquer every inch of space between us.

"You're not leaving me, Ethan. Not ever. * That's* the bloody point. Always was." He bows forward to claim the kiss I refused earlier. The caress of his lips to mine heals me more than any magicks or blood ever could. "They'll never have you. I'll kill every last one, reduced to dust, before I give you up."

He seals his lovely threat with another kiss, demanding and possessive, setting my cock hard as his determination. I can't help but believe him, tasting hidden promises even if he's not able to express it.

"You might wanna avoid the whole murdery talk in front of Buffy and Xander." Willow makes her presence known. "They aren't as understanding as me," She warns with a smirk, glancing between us both, "About a lot of things."

"Never a moment's peace with them. How did you ever manage, Rupert?" I sulk at the interruption and Rupert nudges me to quiet as he sits up to welcome her.

"You did well, Willow ," Rupert offers with a proud smile. "It took tremendous control and power to evoke the magicks to break the spell."

"Ethan did most of the work."

"Damn right," I agree, cringing again as a wave of sickness reminds me that movement isn't an option.

"I could try a healing spell," Willow offers uncertainly and I smile graciously at her.

"No thanks, love. You need to spare yourself any castings until your strength returns." Rupert's much too pleased. "What is it?"

"Not a thing," he explains with an all too smug grin. " Willow , what happens now? You'll be releasing us into Council or Initiative custody, I suppose?"

"Bugger that." I force myself to sit up, steadied by Rupert's hand. "Like to see you try."

The Slayer marches in unannounced, retrieving her stake as Xander follows shortly after. With a roll of my eyes and a sigh of defeat, I say, "It was a figure of speech, darling, just voicing my opinion on the subject."

Giles pushes to his feet and steps forward, prepared to defend me. Xander stands at the Slayer's side, prepared to defend her. Willow and I watch on, sharing a strange sort of camaraderie in our passivity.

"No need to get all in a huff."

"Shut up, both of you, and listen carefully," the Slayer orders. Rupert silently pleads for cooperation and I decide to obey for now. "The Council and the Initiative would love to get their hands on you two but they're outta luck ‘cause your mine."

"Not caring much for the sound of that."

Again, Rupert scolds me with an impatient glance.

"I'm tired, Giles," she says. "It's not working, this war they've declared and I'm fighting. I tried it their way. I tried it mine. Seems to me that neither one was the happy ending solution to the worlds problems. We still have demons; the good, the bad and all varieties of ugly."

"And we still have the influential corrupt, a select few serving up justice to any and all regardless of motivations, waging blanket operations in business as usual and costing too many their lives, demon and human alike." Like Watcher, like Slayer, they sound one and the same.

"Enlisting others to fight their battles on their terms and on others turf," Xander adds.

"Games about to change," Willow smiles with hope in her sparkling eyes.

"You should like this." Xander glares at me. "It's right up your alley."

"I'm all ears."

"As far as I see it, you two are my responsibility." It's an uncompromising statement from the Chosen One and suddenly I feel like a stray dog on a short leash.

"Think I'd prefer the company of the bloody Initiative," I grumble a lie.

"Believe me, I'm not looking forward to babysitting a couple of vampires but you guys are too volatile to let go. Besides, there's no telling what would happen if you two got separated."

"Just what is it you're proposing, Buffy?" Giles asks.

"You guys are more useful to me alive than dead."

"Actually, the death part…"

"You know what I mean," she interrupts me and crosses her arms impatiently, her gaze fixed to Rupert. "I say we reinvent an old partnership."

After a long moment, a smile forms on Rupert's lips. "I'm listening," he encourages her as he crosses his arms, a mirror reflection of her stance. Negotiations are underway.

"You told me you wanted a new beginning, Giles. I say we give it to them. Not with the death and the destruction and the blotting out the sun fun. But there are other ways to get a point across. And we don't need to do it alone."

"Indeed there are." Rupert nods. "There's a good chance you'll become as much wanted by both Council and Initiative forces as we are, Buffy. Are you certain this is what you want? What you all want?" He looks to Xander and Willow .

"If what I have planned works, they'll be hurting big time enough to cover their own asses."

"Besides, we're all sick of being the Council's minions. It's time we be our own," Xander says with a smile. "Well, maybe not minions…"

"The deal simple, be good or be dust. Choice is yours." And just like that, I'm given another choice. Another bloody choice! It's more than I anticipated. I see Rupert's awaiting my answer, his hinging on mine, I presume.

"You have me intrigued, Slayer," I say with the slyest of smiles.

"Same here, Sorcerer," she responds confidently. "Now is your chance to wow me. Just what is this chaos of yours capable of?"

"What'd you have in mind?" I ask, trying hard to hide my curiosity and excitement.

"The world needs a wakeup call, and we're setting the alarm."

 **The Aftermath:**

That increasingly intolerable soldier barges in unannounced. "Sir, you better have a look at this."

"What is it Captain? I haven't the time…"

"Make time." He orders and I've had it with his insubordination. He marches across my office and turns on the telly, quickly selecting a channel like he owns the bloody place. "It's all over town, all over the world, by the looks of it."

"I couldn't care less about the latest scandal."

"Even when it pertains to The Council and Initiative?"

 _"Federal agencies are cautiously fielding questions regarding the highly classified intelligence archives that flooded the internet late yesterday. The trouble started when a never-before-seen virus dubbed the ‘chaos strain', somehow bypassed multiple level security mainframes of various international financial institutions and promptly uploaded confidential records to the web. The files include decades of suspicious transactions for what appear to be heavily funded, covert political and paramilitary organizations specializing in paranormal occurrences."_

My chest aches. "Bloody Hell. This can't be happening."

 _"It was first spotted in fandom based chatrooms," explained one security software specialist who wished to remain anonymous. "From there it spread to tech blogs and public boards where fully detailed texts, complete with illustrations, of over ten thousand long-believed-lost manuscripts suddenly became available to the general public. Before we knew it, it was everywhere, available to anyone with access to the web."_

 _While the function and operations of these extremely mysterious organizations has yet to be determined, the abundance of unverified information that's become public has government agencies scrambling to explain the supernatural nature of the files coming to light._

 _"These ‘X-files' reference some wild stuff; demons, witches, sorcerers, gateways to hell dimensions, even mentions of evil law firms. And what's really scary is how credible it all is. I mean, there's tons of scientific data, authenticated photos, medical histories, even well respected government and get this, church officials signatures scribbled all over these things. It makes for an impressive package. It's got to be authentic. Forget crop circles, Roswell , Area 51 and all that, man. This is it."_

 _Although officials claim the information being uncovered is no more than crudely fashioned propaganda or hoaxes to further the political interests of many terrorist organizations, experts say much of the uncovered information goes a long way into explaining many mysteries of recent events, including the fall of Old Los Angeles and the uncharted solar eclipse that mystified local astronomers and astrophysicists."_

"How did this happen?" I can't believe it.

"Does it matter? It's done. We're exposed and all walks of government and media aren't treading softly. They've come knocking full force demanding audits and full disclosure of all records."

"What on earth are we going to do?"

"Well, I'm sure you'll come up with something. After all, that's not for grunts like me to worry about."

We're bloody doomed.

 **The Email:**

Channel after channel, the same old faces and same bad suits. I hate it when this happens. It's getting worse everyday. My show's aren't on, only these 'Special Reports'. What's so special about them, anyway? They never say anything that makes sense, just rambling puzzles said by nervous people with really weak hair.

"Uncle Andy, it's happening again."

He storms in from the kitchen with his Kirk loves Spock apron and wags a cake batter dripping spatula at me. "We talked about this. It's Andrew. An-drew. You don't want me to call you Sammy, do you?"

"Yeah, why not?" I smile and I know I've got him. He'll probably even let me lick the spatula.

Sure enough, he grins. "What's up now?"

"Weirdness going on… again. All the news channels are covering the same story." I flip quickly through the channels. "You know something big is going down when Comedy Central interrupts there normally scheduled programming to bring you this news bulletin."

"Oh my God," Andrew's eyes open wide and I can't tell if he's upset in a good or bad way.

"What is it?" Just then, I hear my Orlando Bloom 'You've got mail' alert and rush over to my laptop. I slap the space bar and click the Lord of the Rings icon. I can't believe it when I see who it's from.

 _'Sam, baby, we did it.  
A Brave New World for my brave girl. We're coming home, all of us.  
Love Big Daddy and friends.' _

"Uncle Andrew, we're gonna need a bigger cake!"

* * *

 **The End.**

* * *


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